


Loading Memory: Ouma Kokichi

by AnxiousDragonfruit



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2.5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, GOD THIS FIC LOOKS DEPRESSING FROM THE TAGS HUH, I PROMISE HE'S NOT MEGA SUICIDAL OR ANYTHING, I dont know how to title things, Kinda..? But not too much into it, LOOK DONT FREAK OUT AT THAT SUICIDE TAG, M/M, OCs - Freeform, Sad Oma Kokichi, Suicide Attempt, The chapters start short but get longer later on 1 & 2 are short mainly, Trans Character(s), VR AU kinda, i make characters for the members of D.I.C.E does that count as ocs??? I'll tag it just in case, it'll make sense later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23169907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnxiousDragonfruit/pseuds/AnxiousDragonfruit
Summary: It hurts…I don’t want to go..I have to do this for all of them.. For him..He may never know..PLEASE, I DON’T WANT TO DIE-...That's when Kokichi Ouma woke up.Wait.. Kokichi Ouma..? Is that his name?Then why..He opened his eyes.Why.. why the fuck can’t he remember anything?
Relationships: Backround Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, More relationship tags will be added later on, Oma Kokichi & DICE, Oma Kokichi & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi & Usami, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi, Sorry if you dont like the future ships, They'll just be spoilers if I add them now
Comments: 272
Kudos: 641





	1. Chapter One: I think it might be fear

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! This is my first ever multi-chaptered fic. I'm terribly sorry for all the bad grammar haha. Anyway, this is a short series centered mostly around Kokichi? Ish? I don't wanna get too much into it. >:D
> 
> Special thanks to My Beloved. For helping me with this, ily. <33

**“His brain waves are shifting he’s..”**

_“Stable..? He’s finally stable? Oh thank go-”_

**“Uh.. unfortunately I wouldn't call it that, but don’t worry we’ll send her in soon.”**

_“..Okay. Please just.. Make sure he’s okay.”_

**“..We’re ..We’re doing our best. ”**

  
  
  
  
  


_It hurts…_

_I don’t want to go.._

_I have to do this for all of them.. For him.._

_He may never know.._

_PLEASE, I DON’T WANT TO DIE-_

  
  
  


That's when Kokichi Ouma woke up.

Wait.. Kokichi Ouma..? Is that his name? 

Then why.. 

He opened his eyes. 

_Why.. why the fuck can’t he remember anything?_

He sat up, body heavy. His eyes.. Weren’t adjusting right. Everything was fuzzy.. And everything looked white. 

Wait. 

That wasn’t just his vision. Apart from his skinny body, dressed in pale clothing, and what looked like.. A checkered bandanna? ( _Hmm, needs to be more colorful)_ Everything around him was white. For as far as he could see, below him, above him, everything was starch white. He was floating in a void of white. 

_Huh, huh, well, maybe not floating entirely._ He thought, shakily testing if he could stand up in the white. He could. Creepy.

_Am I.. dead?_

Alright. So this was hell, apparently, it wasn’t the pitchforks, fire and (hopefully sexy) demons. Huh, who knew? Interesting punishment as well, not knowing what crime or terrible thing he’d done to end up here. He shakily took and few steps forward, then some more. He peered around again, double checking that there was truly nothing around. He took some more steps. Then peered around again. More steps. Then peered around again. And-

Yeah. There was nothing here. He’d been doing the same walking and looking for who knows how long now. This was a void. Timeless, empty, and meaningless. How odd. How weird. How strange. How- _yeah the panic’s kicking in now. Fuck._

_What am I doing here? What the fuck. Am I going to be here.. For forever? Oh god. Oh god. This is cruel. Haha, some demon thought of a good punishment for me. Fuck them I guess._

_Stay calm. Stay calm. Don’t panic. You can’t show weakness- Why can’t I show weakness? Why is my brain telling me not to? Oh god. It’s going to be fine. Just fine. Fucking, woo hoo fine. Oh who the fuck am I lying to?_

He giggled to himself. Slowly slipping into maniacal cackles. It was the only thing he could do. Tears poured down his face as the cruel, existential truth of his reality settled in. He hugged his chest, dipping his head, letting his purple.. Purple? Hair cascade down his face, before grabbing it and pulling on it hard. To let something happen. Even it was a squeezing pain. 

_Fuck, this is going to be forever huh? Hahahah fuck. I can’t.. I can’t be here forever.. Not without.. Not without knowing why. Please, please. SOMETHING HAPPEN! JUST LET ME KNOW THAT THIS ISN'T GOING TO BE FOREVER-_

_-_

**“We’re inputting the program right now. And fast. Hmm, fuck, he's not looking so good.”**

_“Yes I'm sorry to rush you, but please! Just hurry. I can’t watch this.”_

**“Inputting her now. Anything to stop you pacing, heh.”**

_“Thank.. Thank you.”_

-

  
  


Kokichi’s mind was spinning. I couldn’t believe it. His fate, his existence was limited to a world of white and nothingness. He existed with no stimulation, no nothing. He was a meaningless speck of color in this void. Nothing would happen.

Nothing at all-

Suddenly, a whirlwind of twinkles and sparkles and pink erupted in front of him. In the form of..

_A white.. And pink rabbit? With.. angel wings? Am I sure this is hell?_

The rabbit flapped her wings and opened her mouth to.. speak?

Now, any normal person's reaction would be to kick the rabbit, run away, or cry, out of shock, relief or surprise. But, Kokichi, in the short time of knowing himself, already knew he was far from fucking normal. So he did what was very fucking unnormal, and snatched her by her ear, pulling her up so that they were face to face.

“Hi! My name is magical girl rabbit Usa- AAAAAA!”

Kokichi dangled her in the air and inspected her as she wriggled and complained. 

“Let me go! Let me go! This isn’t nice at all!”

Kokichi used this time to scrub away his tears and put up his.. Familiar..? Smiley charade. 

_Why.. why was it just second nature to do that?_

"Well well well! You’re lucky I'm not a fox! Otherwise I’d be really hungry right now!”

His voice, he found, was croaky from crying, so he switched that to his weird, clowny, voice and giggled.

“Hmm.. Well, I have been bored here.. and even if you look like a soft toy, my taste buds need something, so I’m going to construct a fire out of white void and roast you on flaming nothing rabbit!”

“Noo! Don’t eat me! I’m here to help!”

The rabbit wailed, tears coming out of her black buttonish eyes. _How the fuck is liquid coming out of there? That's abnormal- yeah i’m just gonna shut up my thoughts now. Better hear what she has to say._

Kokichi laughed, dropping the rabbit, muscle memory telling him to put his hands behind his head.

“Oh? What are you here to help me with? If you can see, I'm doing justtt perfect in my beautiful nothing here!” 

The rabbit at least had the courage to huff a little.

“You just said you were bored!”

“Hehehe! You’re right, I was lying!”

_Seriously, WHAT IS UP WITH MY PERSONALITY?! Why do I keep having the need to lie like this?_

The rabbit just sighed, and perked immediately up again, pulling a magical girl wand out of thin air and waving it.

“Anyway, before I was interrupted, I am the Magical Miracle Girl Usami! A.K.A- Hey! Where are you going..?”

Kokichi was already a distance away before she had finished her sentence. 

“I don’t know, I got kinda bored of the whole cutesy magic bullshit. Suddenly, my mind couldn’t take it anymore, and I teleported over here! Amazing huh?”

You would never expect a stuffed toy to be capable of human expressions, but the look Usami was giving him was a mix of innocent confusion as well as ‘aight this is some bullshit’. She then _actually_ teleported over to him, in a spiral of twinkles. His face was suddenly in full view of a cuddly, chubby rabbit face, as she floated in the air using her _adwoable_ wings. 

“Look. I’m here to help, you have to listen! Kokichi you-”

Kokichi froze, eyes widening. He grabbed her, making her yelp, pulling her closer to his face and making his eyes as threatening and serious as possible. 

“That. My name. That was the only thing that I remember. How. Do. You. Know. It.”

Usami’s face scrunched up into something of fear. 

“Yes, your name is Kokichi Ouma. You have lost your memories, and my mission is to help you get them back.”

  
  



	2. Chapter Two: We depend on you, we depend on you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usami explains the Fic Plot. >:D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is so short, chapters will slowly get longer, again this is just my first multi-chapter fic. Currently freaking out about the coronavirus, stay safe everyone! 
> 
> Again, sorry for poor grammar and pacing in these stories, I'm doing my best.
> 
> Special thanks to My GrossSmellySpouse for always being a big help! And Mangoparent too.

**“He’s giving Usami hell huh, now why are you worried over him again?”**

_ “Unfortunately, I am. Sometimes I really do question why. And look, you can’t judge.” _

**“Touche. Anyway, I think he’s good enough to enter the next stage.”**

_ “Thank goodness.” _

  
  


-

“Yes, your name is Kokichi Ouma. You have lost your memories, and my mission is to help you get them back.”

Kokichi swallowed.

_ I don’t know if I can trust her. _

Usami was giving him a look of pure determination, there was nothing deceiving written on her face. Still, paranoia crawled through the cracks of Kokichi’s currently fragile mind. 

_ Lost.. my memories? That’s obvious, but why? And why does she want to help me with that? It’s kind of hard to read a soft toy for deception. Oh god, what do I do? I can’t trust her, but what else can I do? I guess I’ll.. listen to what she has to say but.. Take it with a grain of salt.  _

Kokichi’s face morphed into an innocent smile, and he dropped the rabbit for the second time. 

“Okay~ and what does your mission involve super high school level maths animal?

“Why am I a... Maths animal?”

“Because rabbits multiply.”

If soft toys could blush, Usami did the equivalent of that.

“A-Anyway, my mission involves getting you to go through your subconscious, where you will recover your memories and learn why you’re here and overall.. Allow you to.. Ah, actually I shouldn’t say. It’s better to go through things slowly so that you’re not overloaded, as hard as that is going to be.”

_ Holy shit this is already a lot to take in. _

“Through my.. Subconscious? Are we in my head?”

Usami frowned, her nose twitching thoughtfully. 

“I suppose you could say that. More like this place is connected to your mind. Everything here is a representation of your mind, your memories, background, everything!”

Kokichi looked around.

“This place is empty.. you’re calling me stupid?”

“What no!! This is just a peaceful starting point in-”   
  
“WAHHHHHHHHHHH! AND HERE I THOUGHT WE WERE GETTING ALONG!!”   
  
“Nono that's not it at all! Kokichi stop crying we need to-”   
  
“Hehe! I know!”

After Kokichi had dried his crocodile tears, and Usami had stopped her motherly panic, Usami said she had to get a “spell” ready. As she started to prepare it by waving her big-ass wand around, it gave Kokichi some time to think. 

_ This.. This is getting fucking weirder and weirder. I still don’t know if this is all a lie. And what does she mean by.. Learn why I’m here? And who sent Usami on this.. “Mission”? AND IM IN MY SUBCONSCIOUS?? KINDA?? HELLO?? WHY CAN’T I HEAR MY THOUGHTS FROM THE VOID RIGHT NOW? Okay dicky joke, but still. I.. I’ll go through with this. But. I need to be careful. _

Usami had finished “preparing” her spell. She waved her wand in a heart motion, fluttering her wings. And, out of sparkles, she drew a 2-D door shape out of the air. It was all black, just looking like another void waiting for him to fall in. Nervousness danced through his veins, hand in hand with excitement, in a twirling, leaping mess of jittering emotions as he stared up the ‘door’. 

Usami stood half in the void door and half out, and button eyes twinkling, she held out her paw. 

“Kokichi Ouma, I need your verbal consent to say you’re ready to move to the next stage. Are you ready?”

He tried to stop the shaking in his hand as he took her paw.

“I sure fucking hope so.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and chapter titles are lyrics from songs now, haha! Chapter one is from Little Pistol, by Mother Mother, and this chapter is from Sad Machine by Porter Robinson. 
> 
> Again, sorry for the short chapter, the chapter's in-between "stages" will probably be quite short.


	3. Chapter Three: Don't listen to a word I say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi moves onto the first stage and finds some... unexpected things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry about any grammar or poor work in this one! I've been stressed due to the lockdown and I kinda got kicked out of my house haha. I hope everyone is doing okay, and I hope this chapter doesn't have terrible quality. Sorry for any delays with future chapters and quality, and I hope everyone is doing okay out there. Stay safe.
> 
> The chapter name is a lyric from 'Little Talks' by Of Monsters and Men.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to thedisgustinggreekvoreperson. :D

**“Everything.. It seems to be going as planned.. However..”**

_ “What? He’s okay right?” _   
  
**“Yeah, just.. He seems to be.. To put it lightly..”**   
_  
_ _ “Yes..?” _ _  
_ **  
** **“He’s basically just bullying Usami.”**

_ “Oh. Yeah, I expected that. At least he’s got his personality still.” _ _  
_ _  
_ **“Ugh, it’s gross you said that with love in your voice.”**   
  


_ “H-hey!” _

  
  


-

When he stepped through the rectangular hole, Kokichi thought it would be just another void, maybe just different colored or something weird. But when he stepped onto the other side... he found he couldn’t be more wrong. It was a room. Inside there were checkered black and white walls, purple spirals of bright furniture, giant chess pieces seemingly holding up the ceiling and old… antiques? Including a small static-y tv, treasure chests, a phonograph softly playing swing, statues, masks, an old fashioned mirror etc, all scattered across the dizzying room. But from the size of the room, and the heavily coded locked door at the far-end of it..

_ It’s an escape room. _

Kokichi concluded, curiousness twirling in his mind as his eyes darted curiously around. He let out a small giggle, ripping his hand from Usami’s and skipping around the room. Usami looked after him nervously, wings flitting, as though she was fidgety.

“Awwww what's wrong Usami? This place is so cool!”

Kokichi chuckled, snatching one of the antiques from a wall, a purple mask, which looked as if it had the design of a crowned demon, and placing it on his face. She shuddered at the sight and spoke up quietly.

“Escape rooms.. Kinda gives me a bad feeling. You’ve never played Russian Roulette right?”

Kokichi frowned at her, lowering the demon mask.

“Uh.. fuck if I know! I don’t have any memories Fluff-Brain. If you’ve forgotten something as simple as that, maybe we’re both losing it hm?”

Usami just muttered something to herself and gazed around. They both spent a few minutes just observing items and things in the room, Kokichi was found to be drawn to the swing-playing phonogram. He must’ve liked swing. Eventually he stopped to look over at Usami. She was prodding at some of the multi-colored objects, and after lifting up a pillow on one of the couches, she let out a noise of surprise. Kokichi loomed over her.

“Whatcha find Thumper-Rabbit?”

Usami pointed at the couch cushion under the pillow. Under it was a huge white painted number of 6. Kokichi smiled. 

“Well! A clue! That’s a super amazing fucking start at least!” 

Kokichi then skipped around the room, as Usami watched dumbfounded, as he pulled masks off the wall, looked through draws, snapped his fingers to the music, and then came back to her.

“Okay! I have the first puzzle solved!”

Usami spluttered at that.

“Really? That quickly?”   
  
“Sure do kit-making-machine! The first one was simple, just a number finding game. Easy peasy~ they tried making it like.. An incy-wincy harder by making one number a decimal of the other, but I got it! Now..”

He skipped over to a treasure chest which looked like it had a place for 5 numbers and a decimal for a number lock. He inputted the numbers, and with a flourish, opened the chest. 

Usami watched nervously as he grinned and stuck his upper body nearly all inside, fingers grabbing greedily at whatever was in there. He then came back out, a mildly confused look on his face and produced.. A small cube? It seemed to be a high tech design for a cube, black with neon purple lines threading around it, and weirdly enough, what looked like to be a fingerprint scanner on one of the sides. Kokichi continued to peer at it suspiciously, a finger over his mouth, frowning as though he had a personal vendetta against it. 

“Here Usami, it must be a bomb! Catch!”

Usami squeaked as she caught the cube, dropped it, then skedaddled back away from it, quivering.

“T-that’s not very nice Ouma!”

Kokichi just laughed at her, before snatching it back up and carefully peering at it. 

“Hmm.. well it didn’t explode on the floor impact, so it’s.. Probably.. Fine. It still might explode if I put my fingerprint on it.”

Usami stuck her paw in the air, and jumped around a bit, as though she was an over-enthusiastic student who knew the answer to a teacher’s question.

“Nono! I think it’s a trapped memory!”

Kokichi’s head snapped over to her.

“Trapped.. Memory..?” He echoed.

Her entire demeanor lit up.

“You’re here to uncover your memories! Free the trapped memory, and you’ll remember! I think that solving small puzzles here will get you small memories, and once you’ve done all of the puzzles, you can unlock the big door, that will give you a biiig memory!”

Kokichi huffed at that, not knowing what to say. 

_ How did Usami know what this is? Was she receiving information from somewhere else..? Creepy. I’ll use the cube but.. I need to remember to not trust the memory right away. It could be all fake. _

Shifting his attention back to the cube, he warily decided to put his finger on the cubes scanner. The jagged purple lines around the cube glowed, and then suddenly the cube seemed to fall apart completely in his hands. And then there was a flash where the cube had been, and everything went white.

A voice, soft and boyish, flowed through his mind. 

_ “You have an Ultimate Talent, meaning you are the best at that specific talent, but I’m sure you already know that. You are known as.. _ **_The Ultimate Supreme Leader…_ **

Kokichi gasped as his eyes suddenly grew clear, and the words faded from his head, the ringing from the intensity of it all fading out slowly letting him hear the swing music that played softly on the phonograph in the room. It was like waking up from a bad nap. He rubbed his eyes, and gritting his teeth, he processed the words.

_ That feels right. Fuck. I remember.. I was that. And.. I remember.. That person's voice. Who.. who the fuck was he... I remember.. That memory. I know I can’t fall for it! But it feels so..  _ **_right, to me._ **

Kokichi had wanted to be wary, had wanted to not trust it all at once, but he could feel those words were true in his very soul. 

_ Fuck, it has to be the truth. Honestly.. It would be easier if it was a lie. Then I wouldn’t have to think about it, deny and move on.  _

_ … _

_ Eh, I still can’t trust myself fully, so I’m still.. Not completely on board with this. _

He sighed, feeling Usami’s twinkling eyes bearing into him. He glanced over at her, a little disgusted at how innocent she looked. Her voice too, was annoying soft and sweet as she squeaked:

“Soo.. what did you remember!” 

Kokichi let a crazed grin curl around his face. He moved to Usami and bent his face right in front of hers.

“Yeah, I did.. I found out I was the Ultimate Rabbit Hunter! Better run Usami!” 

Usami shrieked as she began to run, Kokichi took chase, laughing all the way. He chased her around the room at least three times, before skidding to a halt in front of the tall mirror. Stopping in front of it, he inspected his appearance. 

_ Huh, not too bad. Clothes are a bit too plain for my liking, however. _

He was short, quite skinny, had crazed, squid-like purple and black hair, pale skin, a white-strait jacket looking top, and a checkered bandanna. And purple eyes with..  _ oh- _ very dark bags underneath them.

Of course, he’d noticed a lot of this stuff in his own vision, but seeing the combination of it all was quite interesting. He wondered if his appearance had ever been interesting to anyone else. 

_ Actually.. Thinking about who I’d like to impress.. Probably a dude. Huh, I must gay, who knew. This is my coming out story to myself, I suppose. I hope I accept myself and pray I’m not homophobic, I’m probably going to kick myself out of my non-existant house, sad. _

He chuckled, and stared into the mirror some more, but.. As he stared.. suddenly the whole thing seemed to crackle in front of him. Come apart and come together. It was like a glitch in a video game. He jumped back a bit, rightfully alarmed, but as he did, his appearance in the mirror changed. It was him still.. But. 

_ It’s me but... I have this purple jacket on, what the fuck..? I’m wearing this huge, clown mask and more than that.. I’m covered in  _ **_blood_ ** _. _

He almost yelled at the gruesome sight but before he could get the chance the mirror transformed back to normal, and suddenly he could see his (not very) normal, self. His legs shook, his heart raced, he felt like he was going to collapse.

_ What.. What the fuck was that.  _

As he stared into the mirror for what felt like an eternity, reflection staring back shaking, and face pale, a voice suddenly broke him out of his thoughts. Usami.

“Ouma... Are you alright?”

He wanted to turn around, to tell her, no, to ask her what the fuck it was that he saw, maybe even to cry a bit, faint, scream, whatever.

But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

His thoughts spun around and around in his head.

_ You can’t show her weakness… WHY CAN’T I? Because you can’t trust her.. WHO SAYS THAT I CAN’T? Because you have to survive.. SURVIVE FUCKING WHAT?  _

_ YOU CAN'T JUST TRUST ANYONE ALRIGHT?! OTHERWISE- _

Kokichi breathed out a shuddering breath and turned to Usami. Hoping his shuddering heart wasn’t visible to her, he calmly smiled.

“Just wonderful Usami! Tired from chasing stupid rabbits like you around a room! Anyway~ We should probably be finishing up this boringgg escape room!”

His voice shook a little, and Usami looked as if she was going to reach out to him and say something more, but he just walked briskly past her, grinning widely.

_ I don’t know.. What to think anymore.. Who was I..? I need to know. Why can’t my thoughts let me trust anybody? Why can’t I show weakness? _

_ What happened... to make my own mind to work against me? _


	4. Chapter Four: Everybody loves somebody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi gets more memories and finds out more things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAA. IM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE! I have bad news and I'm very sorry. I will no longer be updating weekly, but I will try to update as frequently as possible. There's a lot going on for me and I hope you all understand. 
> 
> ON ANOTHER NOTE: I wrote almost 5,000 words for this chapter. All in one week. I'm dying. 
> 
> OH AND IM REALLY SORRY ABOUT THE POOR PACING OF THIS CHAPTER, AND THE QUALITY IN GENERAL, IT'S TERRIBLE BUT I'LL TRY MY BEST TO IMPROVE MY WORK
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy haha.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to TheOnePersonWhoWantsToDivorceTheAuthorOfThisFicBecauseTheyThreatenedToKillACharacterOff.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR: Panic attacks, slight feeling of wanting to throw up, small dark joke about choking on an object. Sorry.

**_Subject.1: “Ouma Kokichi” a.k.a “Kokichi Ouma”_ **

**_Memory.01 “Talent”..._ **

**_Processing..._ **

**_Processing.._ **

**_Memory.01 79.8% restored._ **

**_Subject.1 still resistant to Memory.01_ **

**_Processing.._ **

**_Processing.._ **

  
  


-

  
  
  


“Ah, so he remembers his talent?”

**“Yeah, we’ve restored a memory of him receiving his title. Sort of..”**

_ “Sort of..?” _

**“I mean, according to Usami, He’s questioning it. Lot’s.”**

_ “Ah, yeah, I knew he would. Hopefully, he starts to trust his own memories soon. At least he’s giving them a chance? He’s not outright giving up on them.” _

**“And.. Usami informed me that he might’ve seen something. A glitch.”**

_ “Ah, that’s.. Not fucking good.” _

  
  


-

Usami pov.

  
  


Usami watched Kokichi brush past her and start to wander further around the room. He was slowly recovering from the panic from earlier, and even though he seemed to be in a bit of an exhausted daze, he still continued to solve the codes and hidden puzzles around everywhere, muttering to himself as he did so.

All Usami could do was watch.

And think.

And think  _ nervously _ .

Currently, Kokichi was sitting cross-legged, small chest on his lap, and he was spinning around a screwdriver to try and unlock the thick dark lock upon the lid of it.

She watched him, a weird feeling overcoming her.

_ I wonder.. What he’ll do when he finds out about everything. I mean, he’s probably gonna get one or two memories of it soon. Poor thing. ...Even though he’s a bully! I still care about him. Kinda.. A teacher’s love for her student. Heh.  _

_ They keep saying it’s weird he hasn’t woken up. _

_ I’m just a program… Will I be good enough to be able to help him? _

_ What if I’m not, what if I can’t convince hi%^*(^@^*&(*)>:”{P)!??ERROR>?>#>GLTCH@HINTA@!!HLP!!@ _

  
  
  


-

  
  


Kokichi's hands were slick with sweat, frustrated he couldn’t get the lock open with the tiny black screwdriver.

_ I’ve been at this for the last three minutes! Curse these adorable hands! They were never meant to mess with screwdrivers, only mess with- _

_ Oh right, I don’t even remember what they used to mess with. Huh. _

Ah!

The lock broke and he opened the lid to find..

A pair of dice.

Kokichi snorted, it was funny, even the tiny white cubes scattered with little black dots seemed familiar to him. He studied them closely, rolling them around his fingers and feeling the cool, comforting, hardness of them. It was..  _ Nostalgic _ . Maybe he should throw them at Usami. 

He looked up.

“Hey, Usam-”

His eyes widened.

Usami wasn’t.. Usami. She instead looked like fragmented pieces of Usami. She.. or  _ it _ . Coming apart, coming together,  _ glitching _ .

_ Like the mirror. _

He sat there, frozen, wide-eyed, face blank. Not knowing what to do watching this storm of glitching pinks and whites.

Kokichi finally found the courage to shakily step up, dice still tightly clutched in his left hand. Taking a few steps forward, he stepped towards the-thing-that-was-once Usami. He stretched his free hand towards it. 

“Usami..”

Suddenly the pink and white shifted back into a small soft bunny form, and lo and behold, standing before him was a very bewildered rabbit.

“Ah!! What happened!”

Kokichi blinked. 

“Oh, a giant lesbian dragon wearing a maid costume ate you and spat you back up! Weird huh?!”

Usami just huffed at him, ear flopping over her face, staggering to stand properly again.

“What… what _ really _ happened Ouma?”

Kokichi hummed to himself. He then leaned his face very close to Usami’s, face morphing into something demon-like.

“I’ll tell you… If you tell me a little more about what the  **fuck** is going on here.”

Usami gulped.

“..D-deal.”

-

_ “What.. what happened to her?” _ _  
_ _  
_ **“She.. glitched? I had to rush when inputting her program, that could be the problem. The other being his mind isn’t stable. She may glitch out again at any moment.”**

_ “Oh. Fuck.” _

  
  


-

  
  
  


Kokichi's face shifted back to a normal, smiley-gremlin-freak face as he plopped down on the floor, arms in the air, cross-legged once again.

“Yay~! I’m gonna hear a story!”

Voice shaking a little, Usami fidgeted her paws together, not looking at Kokichi. Usami softly sighed out.

“Well.. you see.. Again, i'm not supposed to go into too much detail but... I can share a bit. What you’re in right now is a simulation. A programme. To help you regain your memories slowly and ease you back into them carefully. This simulation has been successful for someone who went through something really similar to you. Ah! But It’s a bit too early to tell you what that thing is yet! 

Kokichi’s thoughts swirled.  _ Someone… who… what? _

“What I explained before is that every little thing here represents your mind… even this room. But your living real body isn’t here. It’s safe, I promise you. Right now, the body you see before you is a virtual avatar from… before.”

Kokichi felt.. Twitchy. 

_ Someone.. Who went through something similar to me? The fuck does that even mean?? Who? Avatar from before? Does she mean it’s not my real-life appearance? And she’s not answering the things I really want to know!  _ He inwardly groaned, he’d have to get those answers himself. 

Putting on a smile far too wide for his face, he leaped up, but stepping closer to Usami, leaning right into the face of the timid rabbit. 

“Heyhey! Say! If this is a simulation, You’re a programme receiving information riiiight?”

Usami nodded nervously.

“So…”

Kokichi's voice dropped.

**“Who are you receiving it from?”**

  
  
  


-

  
  


**“Shit.”**

_ “Hahaha. Fuck.” _

**“REALLY? REALLY, HE HAS TO KNOW THAT?”**

_ “Ah sorry… he’s always been paranoid like that haha.” _

“ **...** ”

“ _... _ ”

“ **Yeah. No shit.** ”

_ “What are you going to tell Usami to do?” _

  
  


-

  
  


Usami seemed to freeze for a second. Then she stuttered out:   
  
“Uh.. they’re friends. They’re here to help. And.. I don’t receive as much information as you think. My data banks already know a lot about what's here, so I don’t always ask them for knowledge. Sorry.. For.. not telling you, I didn’t think it was important.”   
  
Kokichi stiffened.

_ Untrustworthy. _   
  
“Can you tell.. me their names?”

Usami averted her gaze. She paused, it felt like a hundred years before she spoke again.

“I.. it might bring on memories.. I can’t.”   
  
_ Heh..I fucking knew she’d say that. _

Kokichi frowned and stalked off again, a pair of dice clutched in his hand so tight his knuckles turned a bright white.

_ I can’t trust her at fucking all. She’s not telling me everything.  _

**_I need to get out of here._ **

“Ouma.. Look, I’m sorry I can’t say everything, I just-”   
  
Kokichi paused, twirled around and smiled at her, so that corners of his mouth stretched so wide it was painful.

_ I’ll just play along, I’ll pretend I believe the stupid memories, whatever, all to get out. _

“Oh don’t worry about it twinkle ass! You toootally glitched by the way, you’re such a weak programme to glitch like that!”

He twirled his hair around with one finger, and giggled to himself before continuing, letting his words sink into her as she looked at him anxiously.

Anyway, let’s see what this pair of dice do y’know? Im suuuper excited for another memory!”

_ Play along. _

He skipped away, leaving Usami to nod sulkily and follow after him.

_ Just have to.. Get through this stage. And once I get out, I can face these ‘friends of mine’ and see what they did to me for myself. _

_ Pfft, a virtual recovery program. Bullshit. _

-

**“I’m going to hit my head on the nearest wall and die.”**

_ “Please don’t.” _

**“This is all the truth and he refuses to believe any of it.”**

_ “I mean.. You can’t exactly blame him? You’d be freaked out too with all this information.” _

**“Yes, but at least I wouldn’t be paranoid to the point I don’t believe even the most basic crap.”**

_ “Ah.. yeah, I suppose.” _

  
  


-

  
  


Kokichi had worked out what the dice were used for.

There was a certain square tile on the floor in the middle of the room, where it glowed a neon purple just like the cube from earlier. All little clues around the room had pointed to that's where the dice were supposed to go. The question now was… what?

Kokichi, frustrated, placed the dice onto the square.

Nothing happened.

He tried twisting the dice on it. Nothing. Throwing the dice on it. Nothing. Shoving the dice into his fucking mouth and giggling at Usami’s look of horror as he spat them back on the square. Nothing.

And of course, the natural response, he tried rolling the dice.

A two and a one. Meaning a three.

Nothing.

Just when he was about to give up and shove the dice into his mouth again, but this time swallow them and choke to death out of frustration, he heard Usami’s soft voice.

“You can unlock memories from all sorts of places. It doesn’t have to be something like the cube from before. Try… rolling them again. Please. There may be a certain number you need.”

Her voice sounded different. Not in pitch or volume or general squeakiness… just sounded different  _ personality-wise _ . When he looked at her.. She was still. Her posture was not Usami-like.

Like..

_ Like she was someone else. _

Someone must be speaking through her, one of Kokichi’s “Friends”.

He stared at her for a few minutes, before she visibly shuddered a little, blinked, and somehow, whether it was her facial expression, look in her eyes or body language, everything hinted to Kokichi that she was back to normal again.

Kokichi felt the sensation of ice-cold claws climbing creeping up his spine. 

_ Creepy. _

A bit dazed, he focused his attention back onto the dice. Right, Usami-Not-Usami told him to roll them on the tile again. 

He tried again. A three and a four. Seven. 

Nothing.

He tried again, throwing them a little harder.

A six and a five. Eleven.

Nothing.

He sighed, he was impatient to get out of here. If the next throw didn’t work he’d have to fuck around and torture Usami for answers again.

He threw the dice on the tile.

A five… and a five… Ten.

_ Huh. Still nothing- _

Suddenly the tile lit up in a flash of blinding white light.

Kokichi’s head spun with a memory, this time a genderless voice, not really belonging to anyone, the voice seemingly just something in his own mind, spoke up.

**_Your Ultimate Supreme Leader title comes from you being a leader of the elusive D.I.C.E organization. D.I.C.E’s purpose is to commit mayhem around the world. And by mayhem… it just means mild pranks and “laughable crimes”. There are ten members of D.I.C.E including you, and they are all like siblings or family to you, as you all went through a lot together._ **

Kokichi blinked rapidly as the words faded out and reality faded back in. Again felt like waking up from a bad nap and man,  _ why does it have to flash like that? Fucking asshole memory, could just tell me whatever, but oh no, let’s blind me to give a probably fake memory, ugh.  _ He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and going over the words he just heard.

_ Fuck.  _

The memory, like the one before, felt right in his soul. It belonged. In his mind, he could fuzzily make out brief images of people dressed in pale white, wearing… some sort of mask, and all having the same checkered scarf like the one he currently wore. 

_ No, no I can’t trust my own head. I can’t. I need to… get out of here.  _

He opened his eyes again, inwardly groaning to see a curious Usami standing in front of him.

“What… Did you hear?”

Kokichi grinned at her. 

“I’m the super evil, awesome, amazing leader of a secret organization of 10,000 members, all dedicated to killing dumb rabbits like you!”

Somehow some of his own words felt familiar in his mind. Usami just sighed at him, probably already being informed that he’s bullshitting her. She then smiled at him, ears perking up.

“Ah! I think you’ve only got one memory to recieve before the escape room door unlocks!”

Relief washed over Kokichi. 

_ Thank fucking god. _

He grinned and immediately started moving his way around the room again. He weaved his way through furniture until he found the place with all the tools he had found to help him thus far. An old antique drawer. He began rooting through all the junk. Doing so he heard Usami’s small voice from behind him.

“Hey.. Ouma what did you actually remember?

He decided to make his voice harsh.

“Hmm! Sorry Bugs Bunny! That’s a secret!”

He heard Usami’s feet shift behind him.

“Look… again. I’m sorry I can’t tell you everything. It’s for a good reason. You will find out everything, but slowly. I know you feel as though you can’t trust me.”

_ Yeah no shit. _ Kokichi thought, inwardly snorting, shifting his way through the wrenches, lockpicks, and weird other crap in the drawer.

Usami continued talking.

“You know.. My original programme was to act as a teacher. Kindness to students, teach them about everything, spread love, etcetera. But… something bad happened.”

Kokichi hummed to himself, sneezing a little at some old antiques which had mounds of dust on them.  _ Why is she telling me this?  _ He picked up a bobby pin he found and fiddled with it.

“My old program.. Got destroyed. In unfortunate events. My code wasn’t entirely gone so… people I knew, friends, recovered the code and put me back together. I existed. Once again.” 

Small clicks of items in the drawer hitting each other halted. Kokichi, back to her, for some reason, seemed to be listening. 

“I… existed. Maybe I’m just a coded program… maybe I don’t have much purpose aside from my code but… thinking about it. I do. I exist. Even if it’s a different way from others, I treasure this existence. I’m coded in a certain way.. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel. I have dreams, hope and…”

She paused, Kokichi could feel her soft gaze on his back.

“A life. I’m alive, and what I’ve chosen to do with this existence is to continue to help others. Things may be different but my core morals have stayed the same. I want to help you Ouma. Even if you hate me, even if you don’t believe me, even if you don’t trust me one little bit. I don’t care what you think of me, I’m going to help you. Because that’s who I am. You’re a good person Ouma, you’re someone that I truly want to help.”

Kokichi sucked in a breath, strange emotions overcoming him.

  
  


You’re a good person.

_ You’re a good person. _

**You’re a good person.**

  
  


Kokichi dropped the bobby pin he was fiddling with, barely registering the faint  _ clack! _ Sound it made on the ground. 

_ A good person. She… called me a good person. A good person. I can’t trust her. A good person. I can’t believe what she’s saying. A good person. I’m… I’m not. A good person. She’s just manipulating me. A good person. She says she wants to help me. A good person. No matter what. A good person. I’m not. A good person. She’s wrong about me. A good person. Who would ever want to fucking help me? A good person. SHES WRONG. A good person. SHE’S SO FUCKING WRONG. A good person. IM NOT- A good person.  _

**_A GOOD PERSON WOULD NEVER HAVE DONE THE THINGS I DID-_ **

Kokichi wanted to scream at the words in his head. To cry. To throw up. Wanted to lie, joke to her face, throw antiques around the room and question again and again why his thoughts are so fucked up and not making any sense. But he found his body, his mouth, moved on its own.

“Th...thank you.”

It was barely a whisper, but it seemed to sap all the energy in the room. There was absolute silence other than the swing music. Kokichi’s breathe was shuddery, his eyes were wide. He couldn’t turn around, he couldn’t show her the state he was in. He cursed himself over and over but he couldn’t lie to himself at that moment. Her dumb speech… stupid, stupid Usami had manipulated him to try and trust her with her stupid, stupid words. 

He was an idiot and he knew it.

He was finding himself… beginning to want to believe her.

There was a slight shuffle, and he heard Usami break the tension.

“Hey… that bobby pin. I think I saw something over there that can be used to unlock it with.”

Kokichi shifted slightly, seeing she was pointing to a safe near one of the giant chess pieces. He’d already solved the code on it before, but it also had a small lock on it, which was unusual for a safe, but Kokichi wasn’t complaining. He carefully, slowly, picked up the bobby pin and moved past Usami, making sure his hair flopped over his head so she couldn’t see his face. He just felt… stunned, and tired. 

He slotted the bobby pin into the safe lock, somehow, he already knew exactly how to lockpick, but considering all the weird shit that had happened to him thus far, he wasn’t surprised. As he heard the satisfying click of the safe unlocking, he expected another bright flash of memory, but all the safe did was swing open with a  _ whoosh _ , almost hitting him in the face. Curiosity budding through him once again, Kokichi peeked inside, and what lay there was…

A music record. 

Confused, Kokichi slipped the large black disc out of the safe, and he flipped it over and over, studying it. In the middle, there was a bright red circle which displayed the records song and artist. “Everybody Loves Somebody.” By Mean Dartin. Kokichi peered over at the only thing in the room the record could be connected to. The phonograph.

He cautiously approached the old brass phonograph. It was shiny, although the wooden bottom of it was covered in dust. The record of soft swing music it currently was playing wasn’t named, but it was catchy for an unidentified piece of music. He carefully took the disc out, blowing any dust off it as soon as he did, and placing it on a desk close by. The thing he couldn’t work out was… how can a memory come from an old record? The song’s name felt… familiar, but that was about it. Kokichi looked over at Usami for what felt like the hundredth time, and she nodded at him brightly, her words from before echoed in his head.  _ You can unlock memories from all sorts of places. _

Sucking in a breath, Kokichi put the record on the phonograph, and let it play. As the music filled the room, he closed his eyes.

_ “Everybody loves somebody sometime… Everybody falls in love somehow…” _

Strange warm feelings flowed through Kokichi, he felt.. Relaxed, maybe even happy. It was almost as if he was in another world. 

_ “Something in your kiss just told me… My sometime is now…” _

Haziness, a mellowed exhaustion came over him, and as the words fluttered around his head, the music becoming eerily quieter and quieter. He opened his eyes...

_ “Everybody finds somebody… someplace. There’s no telling where love may appear.” _

He got a slight jolt. In front of him, stood another boy. He was standing still. Head bowed, eyes closed. The background around them now was very fuzzy, everything felt very hot. The music had faded away entirely. Kokichi approached the boy, his chest feeling warm, and his emotions feeling all kinds of strange… but he found it wasn’t a bad sort of strange. The boy looked to be the same age as him, he has long eyelashes, smooth looking skin, and dark clothing, as well as his dark hair… which almost looked to be navy in the bright light around. From the look of him, Kokichi found him to be handsome… and looking like a bit of an emo. 

Kokichi got the strangest urge to reach out and touch him, and that he did. But as soon as his finger made slight contact with the fabric of the boy’s shirt, the boy’s eyes shot open, Kokichi’s briefly had a moment of:  _ Wow.. that’s… such a nice gold color.  _ Before everything flashed. Kokichi whined, fumbling to clutch his head as the images spun around him, all of the same boy.

The boy was smiling, blushing, looking right at Kokichi in some. The others he was barely focused on Kokichi, just reading a book or searching around for something, either way, it left strange, confusing feelings in Kokichi’s entire body.  _ Softness, warmth, happiness. _

**_Shu… ic... aih… ra…_ **

  
  


He felt such…  _ guilt _ .

Kokichi gasped. He heard the record scratch to a stop, and all the feelings he experienced drained quickly out his body. His vision felt blurred, he could see the rabbit in front of him, her mouth was moving, but he couldn’t hear any of the words she said. He felt so vulnerable, so disorientated at his own emotions, so utterly  _ confused _ . He hated feeling vulnerable, he hated feeling weak, he wanted to get out. Looking away from Usami, he could fuzzily hear a sharp noise coming from the door at the end of the escape room.  _ Right… I got the final memory… the door is unlocked. _

He stumbled away from Usami, but the room felt too bright and he felt dizziness spinning strongly through his head. He grit his teeth, but his jaw felt so stiff and pain shot through his face.  _ I must… get to that door. _ Leaning on any furniture near, he managed to stagger his way over to the door, finally reaching out and putting his hand on the doorknob. But before he could twist it open, he felt he sharp tug on the back of his shirt.

“Ouma stop! Please!”

Not turning around, still hyperfocused on the door, Kokichi spoke up, voice raw and unplayful.

“Why… why am I stopping huh? Tell me why. Now.”

“Because you need to calm down! You’re about to get another huge memory if I let you go through! It might be really bad for you! You have to be in a calm state beforehand!”

“Usami…”

“Please Ouma, just calm down. I need you to calm down!”

“Usami…”

“Ouma please, I care for you, so I need you to wait!”

“IF YOU CARE SO MUCH, THEN LET ME GO!”

Usami fell silent.

Kokichi pressed his forehead onto the door, feeling weak.

“Please… Usami, I know you care, but I just… please. I need to get out of here. So ask me to give you verbal consent or whatever so I can move on. Please.  _ Please.” _

There were a few more beats of silence from Usami, before she spoke up again, voice still sweet, but seemed to be heavy.

“Kokichi Ouma, I need your verbal consent to say you’re ready to move to the next stage. Are you ready?”

Kokichi let out a raspy breath.

“Yes. Yes,  _ please _ . I do.”

Usami let go of his shirt, and Kokichi hurriedly turned the doorknob. A crazed smile forced his lips as he threw the door open and…

He was hit with a strong flash of bright light.

Fear overcame him as images flew quickly around him, death, red skies, demolished buildings, a crazed girl with pink hair pulled into pigtails, horror, he saw people, teenagers he somehow knew, how did he know them? They all looked so... different but he knew they were all important to him. They were all smiling, laughing, as students do… and then suddenly terror crossed their faces, eyes haunted. Some dropped to the ground, they were all covered in so much blood, they were all yelling. Kokichi squeezed his eyes tight and tried to cover his ears, yet he was unable to feel them. The yelling got worse and worse and worse until Kokichi couldn’t stand it any longer, he was going to go insane. But then suddenly all went quiet.

Kokichi opened his eyes, and there, in the void of white, was the person he saw in the mirror from before. It was him, the strange glitch of him. Kokichi could make out some of his features easier. 

Clown mask.

Pale skin.

For some reason… shirtless?

A galaxy printed purple jacket draped over his back.

White... hair?

And… of course...

Blood oozed off every part of his body.

His other self slowly walked towards him, stiffly, as though he was a robot.

Kokichi tried to get away, yet he seemed to be unable to move. His other self got closer and closer, and Kokichi struggled more and more. And finally, his other self reached out a pale finger… and touched Kokichi in the chest.

Emotions seemed to violently hit him all at once, agony, guilt, confusion, paranoia, helplessness, sadness, anger,  _ terror _ .

And Kokichi  _ screamed _ .

  
  
  


Kokichi suddenly jolted awake on the ground, Usami was in front of him visibly panicking. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, he gasped for air but nothing would come. He was back in that white void again, the place between stages, and the eerie feeling of nothing wasn’t helping him at all.

He heard Usami’s voice again, even though his ears were ringing and pounding.

“Ouma… Hey, it’s okay. Usami is here. I need you to breathe. I’m here. In and out.”

He didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to listen to someone he didn’t know he could trust. But he was too frazzled to be paranoid. In and out, in and out, with every breath it got easier and easier. He heard Usami’s calming words again.

“I’m here for you Ouma. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to-”

Suddenly her voice was garbled and jumbled.

“U..Usami?” Kokichi wheezed out, sitting up and blinking rapidly to see the white rabbit.

What he saw, his eyes grew wide at once again. 

Usami was glitching.

Pixels broke apart her chubby body, and garbled noises rang out at him. He yelled, shifting back. The pixels broke apart more and more, disappearing into the air, and slowly her paws went, her body, her dress, her ears.

“Nonono, please no!”

Kokichi shrieked, clambering towards the disappearing pixels. 

She couldn’t leave. He couldn’t be alone. No matter how untrustworthy, she was helping him, he couldn’t be alone again, he couldn’t stand it.

“PLEASE USAMI, DON’T GO-”

His only response was a garbled, tearful voice from the storm of pixels.

“I promise… I really do care. I’m… sorry.”

And all the pixels disappeared.

Usami was gone.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song in chapter title and in fic chapter is Everybody Loves Somebody by Dean Martin.


	5. Chapter Five: I'll give them shelter, like you've done for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi panics about Usami disappearing. Luckily, he isn't alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! IM ABSOLUTELY ASTOUNDED AT THE PRAISE AND VIEWS THIS FIC HAS BEEN GETTING! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! (ALSO PLEASE READ THE END NOTES, I HAVE IMPORTANT NEWS)
> 
> In this chapter, I would like to give a few shoutouts to some people. As I'm so very grateful for them all.
> 
> Thanks to Tob, Cacti (Cuckti, because I refuse to call you anything else), Misty, Ana, Cal, and Lake, for their repeated support of my work.
> 
> HUGE shoutout to Mangoparent, for giving me tips and helping me with my work. It's always good to get advice from your fic writing Boomers. ;)
> 
> ALSO!!! FUCK??!! THANK YOU RHEA FOR THE AMAZING, WONDERFUL, INCREDIBLE FANART. I LOVE IT SO MUCH, ITS BEEN DAYS AND IM STILL NOT OVER IT. EVERYONE GO CHECK HER ART OUT!! 
> 
> https://cloudydoodle.tumblr.com/post/615064753411325952/fanart-of-a-friends-fic-go-check-it-out-its
> 
> Big thanks to SoftCocoa. Who doesn't have anything to do with this fic, but I've been having a really hard time lately, and looking at their art has always been helpful. Go check out their work. https://softcocoa.tumblr.com/
> 
> AND MOST IMPORTANT OF ALL, HUGE HUGE THANKS TO MY BELOVED TheBestPersonEver WHO CONTINUES TO SUPPORT ME, EVEN IN MY DARKEST TIMES, THANK YOU <3
> 
> TW: Panic attacks, and slight self-harm.
> 
> Okay, that's all! Get reading! (PLEASE CHECK OUT THE END NOTES THO)

** “Shitshitshit. She’s fully glitched out.” **

_ “WHAT?!” _

** “Usami… her programme glitched, she’s sent me lots of emergency notifications, shit this isn’t good. Ouma’s freaking out.” **

_ “Oh god. Fuck uhh. Can you get her back in?” _

** “I don’t know. Her code is really damaged from glitching out, and it could take me a while to find all her code and put her programme back together. Everything is so unstable right now. Fuckfuck.  **

_ “...” _

_ “Have you got any ideas of what to do right now?” _

** “No. I’m sorry but there isn’t anything I really can do. Oh god.” **

_ “...” _

** “...” **

_ “Put me in the program.” _

** “EXCUSE ME?” **

_ “I said, put me in the program. You’ve done a variation of it with yourself that one time remember? Your alter ego? You can hook my mind up to the program, and let me help him.” _

** “No. No. Absolutely not.” **

_ “Why not?” _

** “Because he’s unstable, he’s literally having a mental breakdown?! The program could fall apart if he gets worse and you could still be in it. You could die. You saw what happened to Usami just now right?” **

_ “I don’t care. He’s important to me. I’ve watched him handle things on his own for far too long. I don’t want to be useless anymore, I’m not the someone person as I was back then. He deserves to have someone there with him.” _

** “Yes but… as he gets the memories of what happened… he might do what we’ve been trying to prevent. YOU might be in there when it happens. I can’t risk that.” **

_ “Please… I’ll get out if it gets dangerous. Don't you what it’s like to be me? You know what it’s like to risk your life to save someone you love, just for a chance they could get better? That they could be happy?” _

** “...” **

_ “PLEASE. I don’t want to play hero, I just want to help him. It’s our only option right now. Let me help him.” _

** “Fucking… hnng. FINE. Jesus, you sure know your words. Fine, I’m setting up the machine now. Get in.” **

_ “Thank you. Thank you so much-” _

** “Save it, he needs you right now. Jesus, everyone’s going to have my head if something happens to you. I’M going to have my head if something happens to you.” **

_ “Of course. Uh… is this how you lie down here? It’s been a while since I first woke up in one of these haha.” _

** “Yeah, put that wire head thing on. I’m just connecting you now. The lid’s going to shut on you and you’re going to be forced into sleep. Don’t worry I’ll be with you at all times, kind of like an invisible headset.” **

_ “Oh hooray… your voice in my ear at all times.” _

** “Oi. Don’t think I didn’t hear that.” **

_ “Okay, I think I’ve got it. You can lower the lid.” _

** “Okay. Stay safe. PLEASE. I care about you a lot… I mean, you’re alright for some emo ass teen with bad taste.” **

_ “Gee thanks. See you. Tell the others where I am.” _

** “Will do. Inputting you in.” **

** “3” **

** “2” **

** “1” **

_ - _

**_ Program connected to new user. Welcome. _ **

-

Kokichi watched the tiny white and pink pixels disappear, his face slack. 

“Usami…?”

He quietly, eyes wide.

“Usami… please come back.”

His breath was shuddery, he felt both hot and freezing at once if that was possible.

“Usami… please.”

Feelings swirled in him, fear, guilt, sadness, horror,  _ panic _ .

There was so much going on in just a short time, those memories from before were solidifying in his head, Usami was gone,  _ IM ALONE- _

“USAMI PLEASE, IM SORRY, COME BACK.”

Kokichi clawed at his face, letting breathless laughs escape him, trying his hardest to breathe, to not look at the white void around him, not think about the emptiness-

“USAMI?! USAMI!”

_ She’s gone. She’s dead. I must’ve killed her.  _ **_ I’m responsible for someone’s death. _ **

He cringed at those words in his head, and he bent over, arm folded on his stomach, the other pressed hard to his face, hand clawing slightly at his skin.  _ Anything to stop this pain, this feeling. MAKE IT STOP, MAKE IT STOP. _

The void around him seemed to move… to glitch. It twitched, broke apart for a second, just like Usami and the mirror, before shifting back into place, back to normal.

He cried out in fear, gritting his teeth. Tears made his way into his eyes but he couldn’t cry, everything just seemed so still and fast at the same time and he hated it. He knew his first reaction would be to feel glad that no one was there to see him break down like this, just like how his mind wanted to hide his own emotions from Usami, but now he was just begging for her to come back. He wanted anyone there. He didn’t want to feel alone. He couldn’t breathe. HE COULDN’T BREATHE.

_ I’m going… to die here. No one’s coming, I killed Usami. I killed her. Oh god please someone come. I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this. I want to escape to escape to escape to escape.  _

He curled further into himself. Until suddenly, he felt his muscles let out, then tense sharply, then freeze into place, and suddenly he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, he was paralyzed. He was going to die. He felt so small, a small shaking, stupid, awful ball. A ball that isn’t a good person, Usami was wrong, is wrong. That deserves this.  _ WHY DO I DESERVE THIS, WHY AM I HERE, WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THOSE MEMORIES, WHY DO I FEEL THIS, PLEASE STOP, HELP-  _

He felt something. He felt as though there was another presence in the void. Peeking out under his mop of messy hair, through dull, blurry vision, he looked out at the void.

If he couldn’t breathe before, he certainly couldn’t now. Coming towards him was another person.

A tall boy.

_ More feelings kaleidoscoped in his stomach. _

With black navy hair.

_ Why, amongst the pain and sadness and fear, _

Dark clothes.

_ Did he suddenly feel… so warm? _

Handsome but emo.

_ I still feel awful, but there's… such a strange feeling whenever I see him... _

Long eyelashes.

_ But with it all too, there was so… so much  _ **_ guilt _ ** _. _

...Golden eyes.

_ Please come… please go away... _

The boy from his memory. 

**_ Shu… ic... aih… ra _ **

He stared at the boy, suddenly the boy caught sight of him too, got a worried look on his face and started running.

**_ Shui..ich.. Saih ..ra _ **

The boy finally arrived to Kokichi, out of breath, and Kokichi suddenly noticed the bright, golden pixels moving around the boy as though he had an aura. 

The boy yelled his name, unguarded worry trickling into his voice. 

“Oh my god, Ouma!”

**_ Shuichi Saihara. _ **

-

Shuichi pov. 5 minutes prior.

Shuichi felt like he was nothing, just for a few seconds. As though his body was nothing but air and a void, as though he didn’t exist entirely. Then he felt himself coming together, bit by bit, particle by particle. He gasped and suddenly he could see. His vision was slightly blurry, and he brought his hands up to his face as if to check he was actually there. One of the first things he noticed is that he was in a white void, where Usami and Kokichi had been last thankfully. He’d been put in the right place. He also noticed that there seemed to be bright gold pixels floating around him, appearing and disappearing.  _ Cool?  _ He looked down at his body, sighing slightly in annoyance as he realized that it was the same avatar he had in the killing game. Gakuran and all. Disappointedly, even the  _ thing _ in his pocket that he usually had there was gone.

_ Ah… that means… _

He reached up and felt the hard material on his head. His hat.

_ It’s been… so long since I’ve seen it.  _ He studied it for a few seconds, turning it over in his hands. Shuichi smiled to himself, before doing what every sane person with three months of therapy under his belt and slightly more self-confidence would do, and he chucked the bitch ass hat into the void like a frisbee, before walking off to go find Kokichi.  _ Ouma was right all that time ago, it was kinda emo.  _

As soon as he took a few steps through the seemingly never-ending white, a voice seemed to come from inside his mind. And no, it was one of his usual anxiety-ridden thoughts, it was someone else.

**_ “Uh… hello?” _ **

Shuichi bit back a laugh of surprise, it was weird to hear someone else's voice inside your mind.

“Hey. I’m in.”

**_ “Oh thank god. Can you hear me okay?” _ **

“I.. I can hear you, loud and clear.”

Shuichi replied, glad to hear his gruff friend’s voice. It was... eerie in the void. 

**_ “Good. I think he’s nearby to where you are. You better hurry though, I’m going to cut off my audio, but I’ll still be back to check on you occasionally. Stay safe kid, just remember, if things start to go wrong, you have the ability to disconnect yourself by just thinking about it.” _ **

Shuichi’s breath hitched a little. 

_ Right. Ouma. He’s panicking, he’s in danger and he needs help.  _

Shuichi took off running, panic growing more and more in his heart as he did so. Guiltily, also excitement. It had been a whole three months since he’d seen Kokichi after all, so of course, he still had that excitement of seeing his… “friend” after all this time. He’d have to work out what he was to Ouma later. ...If Ouma ever remembered him of course. He shouldn’t get his hopes up that he would, but it was already a bit late.

_ And if he ever wakes up- _

Shuichi shook the thoughts out of his head, it was time to worry about Ouma right now, that's what he was there for. Ouma was right to feel scared in this void. Even if this wasn’t already a stressful situation, Shuichi’s anxiety was spiking just by being in this timeless space. 

He mentally slapped himself for actually being excited to see Ouma. He missed him, but it wasn’t fair that he should get enjoyment out of this whole thing. He was mainly just worried about him. He knew what it was like to have a breakdown, and even though he was getting better with his fears, he still would never be as confident as some of his peers. But he would at least try to help Ouma. The least he could do was at least be there for him.

_ Ouma… _

In the other-worldly white, he could see a splash of colour. A purple mop of hair. Shuichi breath stopped, Ouma was hunched up in a ball, shaking. 

_ Oh fuck.  _

“Oh my god, Ouma!”

Shuichi ran towards the small shape, as he came closer he could see Kokichi was staring right at him, hollowness in his eyes. His lips twitched, but no noise came out, his breathing was ragged, and his face was red with scratches from his hand currently clawed around his head. It was raw and ugly fear. Shuichi just stood there for a few seconds, like a dumbass, realizing he had no plan.

_ Oh god oh god, we’re about to end up with two panicking teens huh? _

Shuichi took a deep breath and snapped himself back. He had to help Ouma. Carefully, slowly, he sat down beside Ouma, just near his hunched up legs, avoiding getting up in his face too much. He didn't want to touch him as that could set Ouma off more, but he had to think carefully about what he could say. He thought back to some breathing exercises his therapist had taught him and decided to go with that.

“H-hey Ouma… It’s okay. Don’t worry about anything right now, I’m not going to hurt you. It’s okay to be scared, I promise. Just take some deep breaths, in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Please.”

Ouma didn’t seem to be any better, he seemed to be far too panicked to hear. Fear crawling its way into his head, Shuichi tried again.

“Please Ouma, if you can hear me… try it with me. Please. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight.”

This time, Shuichi breathed in this pattern, secretly, it helped him as well, and thankfully, on the second time around, he heard Ouma’s breath try and shudder into the same pattern. For who knows how long they stayed like that, breathing and breathing until Ouma’s shuddering breath lessened, and became a lot more solid. Shuichi wanted to do the exercise where you must use your senses to name things around and distract yourself, but in the void, you pretty much had nothing to do that with. So instead he told Ouma to count to twenty and back in his head until he was able to move again. 

Eventually, it could’ve been hours, Shuichi didn’t know, Ouma managed to shakily sit up. He almost fell over again, and Shuichi reached out to catch him, but Ouma jerked away, propping himself up on his own.

Ouma’s messy hair was covering his face, almost on purpose, as if he didn’t want Shuichi to see. He could see hints of Ouma’s skin, however, and his cheeks looked red and blotchy, but the rest of him was paler than ever. There was a slight suck of breath before he spoke, voice low and hoarse.

“Y’know, as much as I fucking adore having randos bloop in next to me whenever I’m having a panic attack, it does get disturbing when it becomes a regular thing.”

Shuichi’s panicked voice rang out.

“Oh right! So sorry, I should introduce myself. My name is  ** Shuichi Saihara ** ,  ** Ultimate Detective ** .” 

Ouma grunted, voice hushed.

“I know who you are.”

Shuichi’s heart sprang to his throat.

_ Did… Ouma remember? Did he remember him? Oh god, please say he did, Ouma- _

“...Do you remember me?”

There were a few seconds of silence, before out came Ouma’s tired reply.

“No.. I don’t. Other than your name, and some… particular flashes of you. And just… a lot of feelings.”

Shuichi felt crushed.

“Oh.”

_ Of course, he didn’t. _

Shuichi stared at down, miserably, picking at a thread on his sleeve. He knew Ouma wouldn’t remember him, he knew all along, he just gave himself hope. He knew, and yet… he still felt… upset. He fought back tears, the overwhelming feeling of defeat washing over him.

“But.”

Shuichi’s head snapped back to Ouma’s. 

Ouma was looking at him, eyes big and full of quiet emotion, and a small smile through his hair was visible.

“I have this weird urge to call you Shumai.”

And at that, Shuichi couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. He let out a sob, one of relief, and happiness, and let the tears run down his face. He wanted to hug Ouma, to tell him everything, to tell him he was going to be there for him from now on. But he couldn’t, too many emotions had overcome him, and all he could do was sit and wipe his palm over his eyes pathetically, as Ouma gave him space, probably silently waiting for him to calm. 

Despite it all, Shuichi was smiling, he knew he shouldn't be in this situation, but he couldn’t help it, he was  _ happy _ . So happy to see Ouma, and so happy that he was here with him. Even though Ouma didn’t remember him, that was okay, he could eventually remember, and Shuichi would help him no matter what. 

After a few minutes, Shuichi dried his tears, and he heard Ouma speak up again.

“You okay there Mr. Fancy Ultimate Detective? I’d offer you a tissue, but uh…”

Shuichi let out a tiny chuckle, he wanted to cry all over again at the nickname, as it was familiar, and Ouma’s words were… so  _ Ouma _ . Kind, but with also a clowny ring to it. He missed this. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Shuichi wiped his eyes with his sleeve again. “You must be really confused right now huh?”

Ouma shrugged. 

“Yeah, a bit. But hey, nothing makes sense right now anyway.”

Shuichi laughed awkwardly a little.

“Sorry, you deserve a small explanation. I knew you, I can’t say how, but we were uh… close. I’ve been keeping an eye on you with someone else all this time, uh, as creepy as that sounds sorry!”

Ouma snorted.

“Jesus, you apologize a bit too much. Yeah, I got these weird memories of you, and I’ve also got weird feelings.” He shuddered, dragging a hand over his face. “God it’s strange, you make me feel very honest right now Shumai, it feels familiar… that, or I’m just too exhausted to do much else.”

Shuichi looked down at his fingers and thought before replying.

_ He’s right, it does feel familiar. But it’s nice. Also… he’s going to continue to call me Shumai huh? I think I'll die. _

“Yeah. I’m sor- I mean, I did talk to you during the program at some point. Through Usami. When you were figuring out the dice puzzle.”

Ouma’s head whirled right around to his face.

“I knew it. She sounded different too. She sounded like she had something smart to say for once.”

Shuichi laughed.

“Don’t say that about her!”

Ouma’s face suddenly fell, before looking right into Shuichi’s eyes, with a blank expression, yet a hard glare.

“Hey… Shumai.  ** Where is Usami right now? ** ”

-

Kokichi pov. (If you didn’t guess)

Kokichi’s head was reeling at this mysterious, interesting boy. First, he was afraid of Saihara, for his vulnerable feelings towards him, and his strange memories and the way just somehow knew the boy’s name, he thought the boy was going to take advantage of him or manipulate him. But instead, the boy came out of nowhere, all golden and pixel-y sat beside him, and helped him calm down from a spiral. And then, revealed he was an ultimate (ultimate detective! Kinda hot.) just like him, and then, Kokichi called him… an oddly familiar nickname, which proceeded to make the boy cry. The detective… wasn’t boring at least. 

But now, the other boy’s eyes were full of fear, a drop of sweat fell down his forehead at the hard question.

“Where is Usami right now?”

Saihara blinked, then swallowed, before he answered, stuttering.

“...Oh y’know… around. She’s fine.”

Kokichi, if times were lighter, would go into hysterical laughter. Saihara seemed to be a terrible liar. 

“Jeez Shumai! You need to get lying lessons!”

Kokichi grinned at him, moving from his previous expression to twisting his old mask of clownery back on.

Saihara sighed and frowned.

“Yeah… well… I’m a kind of… no, I  _ am _ a detective. So I’m more used to finding out lies than telling them.”

Kokichi hummed to himself. Even though he was going to continue prod Saihara for the answers, he know knew the boy was terrible at lying, meaning he probably always told the truth. He wasn’t there to manipulate Kokichi.  _ Probably. _ Kokichi still had to be suspicious after all.

“So what’s really with her?”

Saihara grimaced.

“She’s… okay, I think. A friend of mine is doing his best to help her. Her code was scattered, but he’s pretty hopeful he can fix her… I think. She’s not dead after all.”

Kokichi’s face showed no signs of it, but he almost sighed in relief.  _ Thank fucking goodness. _

He heard Saihara speak up again, could hear the smile in his voice.

“You.. really did care for her after all Ouma, didn’t you?”

Kokichi spluttered, further fixing the mask of lies on, now that he was regaining energy.

“Not at all! I just don’t like the idea of having cute sparkly rabbit blood on my hands is all.”

He saw Saihara’s brows wrinkle and saw him get lost in his thoughts. 

“No… no, you did, I saw. Even if it was just a little bit. Throughout the last stage, you continuously looked at her, checked on her. Even if you didn’t realize.”

Kokichi was impressed. He made no noise to confirm Saihara’s thoughts, just grunted to himself.  _ So this must be his detective side huh… how interesting. _

Kokichi couldn’t fully admit it to himself, but yeah, he did care about Usami. She had a good head, and even if she wasn't bright, and she could’ve had him tricked for all he knew… she was… kind. Maybe.

For now, he decided to keep Saihara in his thoughts, to figure out why the boy gave him such weird feelings, why the boy cried over him. Why he was being so stupidly  _ nice _ .

He watched Saihara stand up back to him, and stretch his long disgusting limbs out, probably stiff from sitting down next to Ouma for so long. He turned around, and his ( _ Jesus, they are really pretty. _ ) golden eyes flitted to Ouma’s full of warmth.

“Hey… uh… I’m sorry about this, but if you want to get out of here, we have to move onto the next stage. You can stay here for a bit longer, I can let you rest more but we have to go at some poi-”

Ouma held his hand up to Saihara, heart already drumming at the thought of getting out of the miserable void, and eventually getting out this whole thing altogether.

“I’m all ready to go Mr. Detective! So do what Usami did, and pull a magical stick out of your ass, and make me the door to the next stage already!”

He expected Saihara to recoil in response, or yell at him for such a joke, but he just laughed a carefree, loud laugh.

“Okay okay, I can’t quite do something as spectacular as what you had in mind, but I can get us to the next stage. I’ll try and do so now.”

Saihara took a few steps away from Kokichi, and he started talking suddenly to no-one in particular. 

_ Oh wow, he’s insane too. Quite the catch. _

Kokichi watched as Saihara’s eyes lit up, and he heard him say an “Oh, thank you!” To no-one at all, before Saihara closed his eyes, face relaxed, and stuck one of his hands, palm facing forward. Then, the golden pixels that floated around him started to flash more and more, and get bigger and seemed to multiply. Suddenly, a rectangular gap appeared out of nowhere, like the last one, that just looked like there was another dark void inside, appearing right in front of Saihara’s hand. Saihara opened his eyes, and he seemed to get a fright at the hole, jumping back, as though he was astounded that it worked. 

He grinned and looked over at tired Kokichi, who was trying hard not to convince himself that his new detective “friend” wasn’t insane. 

Kokichi sighed, and he stood up, his legs shaking slightly, and his head spinning a little at the movement. 

“Well… that wasn’t what I expected, but that sure was…  _ something _ .”

Saihara didn’t seem to catch onto how dumb he looked, and just smiled, and stepped into the gap. 

“W-wait. Saihara.”

Saihara stopped and looked over his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

Kokichi paused.

“Look… Thank you for helping me. You’re uh..." he cleared his throat. "Pretty interesting Saihara."

A small blush came over Saihara’s face. It was a good look for him.

“Oh, and one more thing before we go. Who were you talking to just now? Or are you more insane than you let on, and were just talking to yourself?"

Saihara huffed at that.

"Well, I won't deny that I'm not completely sane, but... I was actually talking to someone. People outside the programme can send me stuff in my head. Just like how Usami explained before, they are here to help, and they allow me to receive information about what to do.

Kokichi's heart twinged a bit at the mention of Usami's name.

"Oh, and who are these helpful people?"

Saihara shifted, head disappearing into the gap, but before he disappeared completely, his voice rose.

“There’s just one helping us out at the moment… His name is…  ** Hajime Hinata ** .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title song is Shelter by Porter Robinson and Madeon.
> 
> Hi! I'm releasing this chapter earlier to give all of you a small treat before I have some bad news. Unfortunately, I might be not posting the next chapter for awhile. Not a super long time, I promise you, absolutely not more than a month, but I'm going through a lot at the moment, and I've hit a really bad place. Try not to worry! I hope you can be patient haha.


	6. Chapter Six: Just like the love we hold,  lets hold hands and never let go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi enters the new stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JWQGYFIYgewfOUGheoguahahahahah IM BACK IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG,, I SAID I WOULDN'T BE LONGER THEN A MONTH BUT HERE I AM, GOT INTO A BAD SPIRAL AND IM SO SO SORRY. 
> 
> Sorry this chapter is very short and a bit rushed but I hope y'all still enjoy! I'm going to be posting my chapters a bit infrequently still, I've got... a lot of bad life shit going on, but I hope I can entertain all of you all the same!! I love you all, all the support and comments gives me motivation to continue writing, you're all so nice ygwyiuwehi;o thanks for being so patient
> 
> Thanks to cal for listening to me freak out as I edit and curse writing
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to ThePersonThatHasAGardenKink

Hajime Hinata sighed, his eyelids drooping from staring at the bright monitor for too long. Sure, Izuru’s godlike-presence inside him helped with his deteriorating energy, but being Hajime, his normal human self was still exhausting. He’d been in this dark, buzzy room, with the only light being the screen, for the past few hours, yet it felt way longer than that. The room was rather big, as it was filled with the pods that once held the in-simulation students. Currently, only two of the pods were occupied, one for Ouma, and one for Saihara. Ouma’s pod had several scary-looking wires in it, keeping the boy alive in the coma-like state he had maintained for the past three months. 

At this point, Saihara’s pod was hooked up to Ouma’s, allowing him to enter Ouma’s subconscious-simulation. Hajime, fortunately, thanks to Izuru’s help, had the technology to monitor the simulation Ouma was in, allowing him to speak to Saihara, and have the authority to know what is going on throughout. Currently, Saihara was convincing Ouma to go to the next stage, and fortunately, it seemed to be going well.

A warm, fuzzy feeling of relief flowed over Hajime, at them both currently being okay, and he softly laid his head on the monitor's desk with a light thump.

_ Saihara helped him. _

Hajime was beginning to drift off, before Izuru’s gruff voice rang in his head.

**_ You can’t rest now, one, its not good for our back in this position, two, we need to keep them alive. _ **

Hajime groaned, tilting his head so his cheek lay on the desk, he could feel Izuru’s strong feelings of “Hajime you’re such a dumbass” Izuru's feelings so strong he didn’t even need to voice it.

**_ Stop overthinking  _ ** (you dumbass)  **_ besides, someone’s coming. _ **

Hajime startled at that, whipping his head up, slightly dizzy from the action, suddenly hearing footsteps from outside the door. The unknown person put their hand on the door and it softly pushed it open, letting the door make a long squeaking noise.

_ Ah! _

**_ Knew it. _ **

In popped a mop of crazy white hair and a pale face, with soft green-grey eyes to accompany it.

Nagito Komaeda.

“Hey… Hajime, Izuru, Saihara, I’m terribly sorry to be a bother, I’m just here to check- Ah, Hajime.. Forgive me for asking, but… where’s Saihara?”

Nagito was fully inside the dark room now, confusion and light anxiety seeping into his fragile features upon realising the detective was gone.

Hajime felt a cold trickle of guilty sweat slide down the side of his face.

“Oh y’know…”

** You can’t lie to him. **

_ Shut up Izuru.  _

Nagito eyes were wide, flitting around the room before they landed on the pods. His face went rigged, and he slowly lifted a shaky hand over his mouth, Hajime could almost see him putting the pieces together in his head. 

“Hajime. Why is… one extra pod lit up?”

_ Fuck. _

** Good luck. **

Hajime stood up and gently took Nagito’s shaky hands and guided him over to a second chair beside him. Nagito’s eyes were wide, and they were staring right into Hajime. He was lit up by the wite eerie light of the monitor, making his already pale features look ghostly. Horror was ebbing into his face and he looked completely shell shocked.

“Hajime… I’m sorry… but can you please explain?”

Hajime decided it was better to get the truth out bluntly, rather than lie or soften the blow, so in his blunt, Hajime way, he sighed and spoke gently.

“Ouma… was unstable, so much so that Usami glitched. It’s going to take Izuru and I a while to find her programme, and Ouma was still unstable, so we sent Saihara in there to help Ouma. It… was a risk, I know it was stupid, but… Saihara was so desperate to help. It was the only option we could think of.”

Hajime could see a mix of emotions swell in Nagito's eyes, sadness, anger, and mainly overwhelming fear. It had taken years for the students of the 77th class to get over the actions they had and witnessed in their program. So thinking about someone in similar pods… in a similar state they were in, was bound to have set something off in his head. All of them… were in a state when they found out what similar hell these teens had gone through.

Nagito’s head fell, and his breath grew slightly shuddery. Hajime felt Nagito squeeze his hands, so he gently stroked his thumb across one of Nagito’s knuckles, attempting to calm the man down a little more.

“Hey… it’s okay. Saihara managed to calm Ouma down, and he might be able to again if this happens. He’s going to help Ouma. It’s going to be fine, I’m right here okay? Izuru is with me too. We’ve got our eyes on them.”

With this, Nagito let out a shuddery sigh, and released his grip on Hajime’s hands a little, yet Hajime knew Nagito didn’t want him to let go, so neither of them pulled away. Nagito looked into Hajime’s face, and spoke, his voice slightly husky.

“Sorry… for making drama. It just reminds me of…”

Nagito’s eyes shifted away from Hajime’s face, a slight pink on his cheeks, and Hajime smiled, finishing his sentence for him.

“Ourselves?”

Nagito coughed a little, embarrassed.

“Yeah. Just… the way Ouma is… reminds me of myself. He’s done terrible things that… I know he regrets it. But I suppose he did do them for better reasons than me. But I’m not one to judge on that.”

Hajime just nodded, it was nice just to let Nagito ramble, Hajime didn’t mind at all, he stayed silent and let Nagito go off some more.

“I mean… I’m glad you helped me back then. In that simulation. It’s kind of the same situation, isn’t it? With the same programme and someone who’s there to help. I’m thankful you were kind enough to help me.”

Nagito stopped, head bowed a little, staring at their hands. At…

_ Oh. _

The tiny gold bands on their ring fingers.

Hajime chuckled a little.

“I’m glad too. So very very glad. And I’m proud of how far you’ve come, it doesn't matter what you did, you've improved yourself, you're better. I’m glad you’re here with me.”

The sweet moment was interrupted by Saihara’s voice from the monitor, saying that he and Ouma were in the next stage.

Hajime groaned and released Nagito’s hands, the soft warmth of Nagito's skin leaving filled him with instant regret.

“Sorry… Gotta get back to this.”

Nagito smiled sadly, and he got up to leave.

“Ah, well I hope I haven’t been too much of a bother. I’ll leave you to work now Hajime. Good lu-”

“Wait, Nagito.”

Hajime reached out and grabbed one of Nagito’s hands, gently pulling him back down to the seat. Hajime bashfully scratched his hair and blushed before mumbling:

“Argh… please. Stay. I’ve missed you, and I’d greatly enjoy it if you were here. Uh, with me.”

Nagito blushed a little before his smile grew wide, and he softly leaned against Hajime.

“I’d... greatly enjoy that too.”

-

Kokichi felt fuzzy coming from the other side of the weird gap. It always felt weird leaving that void. He felt comfort knowing that Saihara was waiting for him on the other side. When his eyes adjusted to the new stage, it almost seemed too dark from the bright eerie void. He blinked a few times, thinking it would be another escape room but… What came at him was a small world of stripes, red and yellowish-orange, the light putting things in that shade of colour all around him. Colourful, and small, inside this world was a trapezes', with no one controlling them, yet they were swinging. So were red balls, ghostly juggling themselves in the air, as well as confetti just floating around, and balancing balls and spinning hoops, spinning on their own. 

It was… the inside of a circus tent.

A bit of giddiness rose in Kokichi, noticing Saihara standing next to him, wide eyes as well. They both seemed to be awestruck. As they both stared at everything, Kokichi heard Saihara whisper to, who he assumed was Hajime Hinata listening on the outside:

“We’re… In the next stage.”

Giddiness in Kokichi rose more and more, turning into a fizzing, bubbly excitement, replacing the weariness from all the events from before. He grabbed Saihara by the hand, getting a surprised yelp from the boy. Kokichi ran around all mysterious ghostly objects, dodging the trapeze swings, and tapping the juggling balls. Even if he snatched one of the floating balls and dropped it, it would just float up again and start moving in a juggle fashion with the other balls. It truly was like a ghost was controlling them. 

He let Saihara peer at everything around them, detective-ly observing the strange objects. He even made small  _ hm _ ’s and  _ oh _ ’s as Kokichi meddled around with the objects, even put his finger on his chin and did that little detective look. Kokichi, even while zipping around at everything, was hyper-aware of every little thing Saihara did. 

_ He’s kinda… cute when he’s in detective mode. _

Kokichi thought to himself while watching Saihara almost get hit by a trapeze. 

Kokichi wondered how he knew Saihara, did he think Saihara was cute back then too? He shook his thoughts off. It was what he was here to do, recover his memories, he’d learn what Saihara’s deal was in due time.

As he was wandering around, something caught Kokichi’s eye. It wasn’t one of the weird objects, and it wasn’t a cute Saihara. 

It was a set of strange masks clipped to the fabric of one of the tent’s walls. Kokichi leaned over the masks, hearing Shuichi come up behind him and study them too. They were all clown masks, big red noses, and lips, cartoonishly popping out of them, ten in total. As he peered over them all, they all seemed to have different designs, and even one was only a clown eye mask.

He remembered the memory about… what was it? D.I.C.E? His organization, apparently, the memory voice had told him. They had ten members in total, and here were ten masks, did they… have a connection to this? 

But, suddenly fear shot through Kokichi. He stepped away, suddenly feeling very shaky, clasping a hand over his mouth.

“Ouma…? What’s wrong?”

Saihara asked, a calm, warming voice in the sea of noise that was his thumping heart.

Ouma pointed a shaky hand at the final mask.

“It… It’s almost exactly like the one I saw… on the other me, the mirror me… I saw myself in this mirror and hallucinations… a glitch… but I was different... I was covered in blood and I was wearing… that mask.”

The mask was in a similar design to the other masks, big red lips, round nose, yet it had a cross for the left eye and a yellow wing eye with a tear coming out of it for the right. 

It was almost exactly like the mirror version… except, one small detail. 

His mirror self's mask had a different right eye, Kokichi could remember it being a sharp, red, almost batwing of a shape. The shape was… familiar somehow. 

Kokichi snapped his eyes away from the mask and chose to focus on the other boy. A tight concern grew on Saihara’s face, and he gently put a hand on Kokichi’s shoulder, speaking calmly, a small smile of reassurance coming with the soft voice.

“Hey… it’s okay. Whatever you saw it… must’ve been a glitch. I’m sorry you saw that, but whatever you saw… isn’t here now. You’re okay.”

Kokichi just breathed in and out, in the strange number pattern Saihara taught him, kind of embarrassed to be panicking again so suddenly. It was strange how  _ vulnerable _ he let himself be around Saihara, even though Saihara was just a stranger. Honestly, he wasn’t used to feeling this small and panicky, but he couldn’t help it with everything that was going on for him. He hated feeling scared though, and soon he let a fake smile grow on his face, trying to prove he was just fine. 

“Now Saihara…”

Kokichi put his hands behind his head, making Saihara quickly pull back his hand.

“Where’s the memories this time..?”

Saihara gulped.

“W-well… I was just uh… haha… informed… that the hidden memories are uh... the masks…”

Kokichi wanted one of the trapezes to hit him.

“Oh… great.”

Saihara made a slight hissing noise in between his teeth.

“We can… wait a bit?”

Kokichi squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“No… it’s fine. I just want to get this over with.”

Saihara sighed.

“Hinata said… touching each one of the masks should do it, so maybe… let’s start with the first one?”

Kokichi begrudgingly slinked over to the first mask. It was unique in design, being the only mask that was the eye one. Before he could touch it though, Saihara spoke again.

“W-wait Ouma.”

Kokichi spun around, faking a smile, and looking up at the boy.

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeessssss Shumai?”

Saihara’s face was kind, as he spoke, hints of worry shining in his eyes.

“Look, I know sometimes the memories can be a little panic-inducing for you… so…”

He leaned down, staring into Kokichi’s eyes.

“Again, I’m here for you. Whatever you see… I’m here.”

Kokichi was bad at feeling vulnerable, he was bad at accepting kindness, but, something about Saihara made him feel warm and look down, and mutter a small  _ thank you _ . 

They stood there for a second, Kokichi feeling very warm, before he coughed, and spun around so Saihara couldn’t see his face.

He took a deep breath in and out, stuck his hand out, and warily… touched the mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter name is a lyric from a song called "Quiet Room" by 有機酸/ewe
> 
> ALSO IM SORRY I DIDNT ADD THE KOMAHINA TAG IN FROM THE START, I DIDNT WANT TO SPOIL WHO WAS THERE IM SORRY IF YOU DONT LIKE THE SHIP AAAA


	7. Chapter Seven: I can only be forgiven if I've given myself up to you, on a silver serving tray~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi gets his first memory from the mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii!!! Sorry for the long wait, and how rushed and terrible this chapter is. I was editing it and just CRINGING. I've been very insecure about my writing lately, a lot is going on. Hopefully it's not too terrible, as I've edited this while being dozy on sleep medication. I'm sorry if the characters come off as OOC. Kokichi's just stressed cause so much trauma and memory shit rn hehe. I truly hope you enjoy! (I have a very sore back from writing now owie.) 
> 
> Special thanks to Cal, Rhea, Nerdy, Tob, Yan, Ed, Sam, Kira, Who, Ana and Chinta! And lots more, im sleeby hewfeiweghuwehyfguaw, I love you guys sm,,
> 
> Fanart:
> 
> ALSO I FORGOT TO SHOUT OUT TOB FOR THEIR AMAZING FANART!!! ILYSM!!!!
> 
> RHEA DID SOME MORE FANART AND IM SOBBBBBBBBBBB GO LOOK !! https://cloudydoodle.tumblr.com/post/618789373891297280/some-more-fanart-of-my-friends-wonderful-fic
> 
> YAMI??? THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN HNGNGNGGNGNG ITS SO GOOD GUYS  
> https://yamiceylan.tumblr.com/post/619152814278623232/loading-memory-ouma-kokichi-chapter-1
> 
> Also shoutout to my beloved who has drawn art but I Cannot show it for spoiler reasons. BUT THANK YOU,,,, IM SORRY YOU HAD TO DEAL WITH MY EXTRA DOZY SLEEPY REACTION AT 4 AM RGRGYFWEHGEUIAFEWU
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to ThePersonWhoBroughtUpSwingPlayWhenI'mIntoDoorplaySowwy

**Trigger warning for abusive guardians and mentions of parent death, yelling, and like, being punished by being put into a tight space. If these are things that trigger you, that’s okay, you don't have to read this chapter, and I can recap things in the comments for you, or you can leave and prepare yourself, this fic isn’t going anywhere dear <3**  
  
Kokichi took a deep breath in and out, stuck his hand out, and warily… touched the mask.

As soon as he did, the mask seemed to disappear into pixels in front of him. So did the circus tent, the ghostly circus objects, the bright atmosphere, everything. The only things that didn’t change were… Saihara and him. As the two wildly stared around, both coming increasingly nervous at how rapidly things were changing. Finally, after all the pixels were gone, it became dark and new pixels started rapidly appearing to make shapes, a background, it created grey walls, a grey floor, windows, hallways, doors, everything. And then… people.

The people were all mostly… children. The children were wild, running about the dark unkempt halls of the building, with bedrooms that they all shared. They seemed to be of all age groups, yet the only adults around being middle-aged men and women, all in dark long clothes, like uniforms. They seemed to be stern-looking, trying to rush around the children, growling them, getting them ready for bed, as the windows around them showed a darkening sky.

The children sharing bedrooms, the stern, uniformed adults, the unkemptness of it all, it was clear to Kokichi that this was not a normal house or even building.

This was an orphanage.

“This is… so weird.” 

Kokichi muttered, feeling like a ghost, he and Saihara and him seemed to be transparent, as children rushed through his form, and not even see him. Shuichi next to him nodded, eyes wide at the havoc of it all. It was making Kokichi feel nervous, sure it all felt very deja vu… but not in a good way. The chaoticness of it all was making Kokichi twitch, as well as the sharp, yelling voices of the nurses scolding the children, It made him nervous, it all felt… _so familiar_. 

(I did a google search to see what people that look after children in orphanages are called, and apparently, they’re nurses… SORRY IF I'M WRONG!!)

A child, crying, ran through his ghostly form, making him feel… hollow. He watched as the child tried crawling under a small white-sheeted table with a table lamp on it, making the old-fashioned lamp rock slightly. Unfortunately for them, a nurse, black uniform and grey hair tied back in a bun, saw this. The same nurse who seemed to be in charge of most things, as she was making a majority of the noise and yelling, and seemed to be ordering others about. The nurse stomped through Kokichi's form to get to the child, and even though he knew she wasn’t real, he still took some quick steps away, eyes wide and scared, as… she was… angry. She was yelling sternly and swearing at the crying child, it made Kokichi feel nervous, and trapped. He watched as the nurse dragged the child from under the table, and carried them off, still cursing loudly under her breath the whole way.

Kokichi almost jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder, he whipped around, to find it was only Saihara.

“Hey, you okay? Let’s go to a quieter place.”

Kokichi could only numbly nod, as Saihara walked them over to a dark hallway, where the only light was from a pale moon from a skinny window, and only the occasional child ran through.

They sat down, backs against the wall, just taking a breath. Kokichi could still feel his heart racing. It was strange. 

“Ouma… do you know what this place is?”

Kokichi turned towards Saihara at the sound of his voice. Saihara’s eyes were wide, confused, Ouma could almost see the cogs turning in his head. Kokichi raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s an orphanage Mr. Detective. Duh.”

Saihara rolled his eyes.

“No, I mean…”

Saihara leaned a hand against his mouth, thinking, making himself look, in Kokichi’s mind, Detective Mega Dramatic.

“I mean, do you remember this at all?”

Kokichi looked up at the dark ceiling, where he automatically knew there would be cobwebs. Looked at the tiny window that he could just see the stars peeking through like he’d seen the same sight a million times. He looked at the dusty floors, the wonky cupboard door a few metres from them, and winced as he heard the shouting and chattering from the other rooms.

He turned to Saihara, he took a breath in and out, making his face serious.

“Yep! Seems pretTy fucking faMILIAR!”

Kokichi’s face burned at how his voice anxiously cracked like that. Saihara seemed to notice too, stifling a laugh in his hand at how high Kokichi’s voice went when he got anxious. He then breathed in and out, trying to keep a “serious detective face”, and looked right into Kokichi’s eyes, laughter fading away into concern.

“What do you mean by familiar?”

Kokichi sighed, before standing up and stretching. He paced up and down the hallway, inspecting the walls, looking at the floor, and gazing out at the moon.

“I feel like… I’ve been here before.”

Kokichi went to inspect the wonky cupboard, it was the thing that he felt was the most familiar. It was small and old, with a rusty lock hanging loosely off the door. Something felt... unusual. It made him feel nervous. Maybe there was to be something scary inside of it? But as he leaned his face forward to the doors to inspect further, the cupboard bust open, making him jump back.

_What the-_

And out stepped a small girl.

This wouldn’t have been a huge deal except…

She was different from the other children.

Not by her pale brown hair that was wrapped in pigtails.

Not by her wary demeanor as she kept staring down the hallway where the noise was coming from.

And not even by the fact she was in the cupboard.

Around her eyes, was a glowing, bright aura, in the shape and design of… an eye mask.

_The same one in the circus tent._

Kokichi’s heart sped upon realizing. Saihara seemed to notice too as he froze, eyes huge at the girl nervously peering down the hallway. And as fast as she appeared, the girl quickly, (yet somehow sneakily) ran off.

“She might be connected to your memori-”

“Yeah I get it, let’s fucking go!”

Kokichi and Saihara took off after the small girl (Not in a creepy way!!) as she ran towards the main room that the majority of people were making noise in. Kokichi winced as they dived back into the calamity of the room, but it made it a little easier knowing that there was a clear purpose to be there this time. There were still the nurses yelling and the kids running around, and even the same grey-haired nurse seemed to be roughly picking kids up, as well as bossing around the other nurses.

That same grey-haired nurse gave Kokichi a _bad_ feeling.

Shaking off his emotions, he and Saihara both wildly looked around the room for the small girl. He couldn’t see her in the fray of children so…

_It means she’s hiding._

Kokichi quickly scanned around the room, seeing any hiding places. And then, he caught sight of the small table, with the old lamp and long tablecloth that the child had crawled under earlier. Peeking out from under the tablecloth was a hair-covered face, only just covering the glowing mask of a girl. He gasped, tapping Saihara beside him, and pointing to the girl.

But just as they did, Kokichi saw the girl quickly run out from under the table.

Quickly, but not… silently.

Because as she slipped out, she knocked her head on the table.

All Kokichi could do is freeze as he watched the lamp tremble, rock forward, and-

**_CRASH!_ **

Suddenly all chaos in the room stopped.

Everyone stopped and silently looked at the smashed lamp, the nurse's eyes full of anger and shock, the children's wide from fear. The little mask girl had scampered away in time, so no one knew who had done it. But, from the way the scary grey-haired nurse stomped up to the broken lamp, everyone parting like the red sea in front of her, Kokichi knew that if she found out who had done it, she was not going to be forgiving. 

The grey-haired nurse’s face was red as she moved pieces of the old lamp around with her shoe. She gritted her teeth and spun around to face everyone. Parts of grey hair seemed to come free from her bun and float around her head the more angry she got, as she started yelling, it seemed a dozen strands came loose.

“WHICH ONE OF YOU FUCKING BRATS BROKE THAT LAMP?”

Every child looked away nervously, shifted, or trembled, but none of them said a word. Kokichi could see the little mask girl in the corner of the room getting paler and paler. Kokichi himself felt quite pale, and he was aware of Saihara shifting uncomfortably near him. 

“WELL? WHO DID IT? FUCKING SPEAK UP YOU LOT!”

The nurse seemed to be spitting as she yelled now, veins popping out of her head, hands trembling and making threatening gestures. Even though Kokichi knew that she wasn't real and couldn't hurt him, he felt like he should run, but he couldn’t, he felt frozen, his breath felt shaky-

“EITHER ONE OF YOU SPEAKS UP, OR ALL OF YOU WILL BE PUNISHED!”

_Make it stop, I wish I could make it-_

Kokichi saw the little mask girl, trembling about to step forward. He wanted to yell at her not to say anything but he still felt frozen, and besides, he knew whatever he did was pointless.

“ON THE COUNT OF TEN!”

_Oh god-_

“TEN!”

The little mask girl trembled.

“NINE!”

She tried her best to breathe, but out came croaky sobs.

“EIGHT!”

Other children in the room were crying, shaking in fear, Kokichi knew the punishment would _not_ be easy.

“SEVEN!”

_Shit, if there was only a way to stop this-_

“SIX!”

Saihara next to him was rocking on his feet, anxiety overtaking his body. The raw fear strangled everyone in the room, as though the air had been clawed from their lungs.

“FIVE!”

The mask girl, pale, and looking as though she was about to faint, shakily and slowly started to move her hand up, as if it was in slow motion. She was going to admit to her accident.

“THREE!”

_Don’t do it. Please-_

“TWO!”

The girl stepped forward and a few children turned towards her as she weakly tried to raise her hand before the final second.

“ONE-”

“Ahem! Suuuper sorry to interrupt, but it’s truly fun to watch the tension going till the last second!~”

The nurse snapped her gaze towards the loud interrupting voice front the back of the crowd, as well as everyone else, as though the trance of fear had been shattered. Kokichi heard Saihara gasp beside him, and as he laid his eyes on the voice’s owner, Kokichi thought he was hallucinating.

There stood a smirking short boy, with curly purple-black hair, pale skin, purple eyes, and decked out in overalls with a too-big white shirt.

He waved to everyone.

“Heyo~ yeah it was me, the mysterious culprit who broke the dumb lamp or whatever. The name’s **Ouma Kokichi.** ”

(Our) Kokichi’s thoughts spun.

_This… that’s… me. It’s me, a child me, this is my past,_ **_I’m witnessing my past._ **

The nurse was shaking with anger at the sight of the young Ouma. All other the children seemed to scatter, or stay terrified and frozen, or even twist their faces in anger at the seemingly-superior stance that Ouma posed. 

(The reference to the younger Kokichi will be “Young Ouma.” or “Ouma” to differentiate the two. Sorry if it sounds weird!)

“You…”

The nurse pointed a shaking finger at young Ouma.

“I know what the fuck your name is brat. Come with me. Right now.”

Ouma grinned wider, and skipped towards the nurse, winking goofily at the upset children as he passed by. As soon as he got to her, she roughly grabbed him by the arm and dragged him off down a separate hall. 

As soon as he left, Kokichi saw the mask girl stare numbly after young Ouma, and finally, her body trembled violently and her legs gave out. A few of the children came over, concerned, but she waved them off, curling into a ball and staring at the ground, eyes wide and numb, she seemed to be truly overwhelmed by the entire situation.

“What… just happened?”

Saihara’s voice floated into Kokichi ears. 

Kokichi turned and shakily faced the other boy, Saihara looked bewildered to everything that just went on, he had a hand over his mouth and his face was the palest Kokichi had ever seen it. Kokichi himself was bewildered.

_That was… me. This… this is my past._

Saihara’s voice washed over him, pacing, making gestures and making questions and exclamations from all that just happened, but all Kokichi reacted with was a tiny, pathetic, mumble of words.

Saihara stopped his pacing.

“Ah! Sorry! What was that?”

Kokichi’s eyes swiveled down the hallway he watched his younger self get dragged into. 

“We’re going to follow them.”

Saihara’s face furrowed into one of concern.

“Are you sure? Don’t push yourself. We don’t have to look, it might be… uh... a hard memory to watch. S-sorry, that nurse was kinda scary, and who knows what she could be doing to your younger self.”

Kokichi looked up at Saihara, face blank, yet strength to his gaze.

“I know. But something about this… feels too **Important** to ignore.”

Saihara was taken aback by his tone, it was filled with seriousness, reassurance, and... _Sincerity_. Saihara swallowed, a small blush forming on his cheeks.

“Y-Yeah. Okay.”

Kokichi gave him an odd look, before slowly and cautiously slipping down the hallway after his younger self, Saihara quick to follow. It was easy to find where they went, as loud shouts from the nurse were frighteningly easy to track down. They came to a small room, and peeking inside they found it was laid out like an office, with the nurse pacing as well as ranting and shouting at the small Ouma, who in turn, was sitting in a chair opposite the nurses and her desk, and was smiling unblinkingly at the nurse, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Kokichi was staring through the partially open door at everything that was happening, his grip hard on the doorframe, face rigid. He then once again, felt a soft hand on his shoulder. Saihara looked down at him, a gentle look in his eyes.

“Once again… we can go back if you want.”

Kokichi looked back at him, a flicker of doubt flashed in his eyes before it was washed over with that same emotion from before. It was all that needed to be shown. He was staying.

Young Ouma Pov ?

“You’ve been here since you were three you ungrateful brat-!”

“HOW DARE YOU KEEP CAUSING US DAMAGES-”

“YOU’RE A DELINQUENT, AN UTTER DELINQUENT!”

“You’re just a villain you little shit.”

Ouma was getting more uncomfortable, but he was still smiling, it was a battle of wits, he wouldn’t let this woman win over by using fear. 

He yawned, as if tired and bored.

“Are we done yet?”

The nurse stopped her pacing, her head snapping towards him. 

“No Ouma. We’re not.”

She walked, towering and unsteadily over to Ouma, who shifted in his chair slightly, fearfully, but wouldn’t let the mask of a smug smile fall from his face. She leaned into his face, eyes wide, teeth gritted.

“Tell me Ouma. Why are you still here?”

Ouma just sighed overdramatically.

“Because I have nowhere else to go I guess.”

The nurse smiled at him, wide, and unsettlingly.

“That’s right. You’re here because your parents died. Because some freak went and killed them.”

Ouma’s smiling mask shifted.

The nurse grinned more.

“That’s right kiddo. Some freak. Killed them. And you? My prediction for you, is you’re going to grow up, no future, and stay a freak. Become like all the other freaks.”

Ouma’s face started to go red.

“And eventually, you know what? 

She leaned in and whispered sadistically.

“You’re going to hurt… or maybe even kill people too.”

Ouma's head fell, hair covering his eyes.

“Yeah. You're right. I will be a freak.”

The nurse smiled at his answer this is what she wanted, to see him defeated-

"BUT SO WHAT? IF I’M A FREAK, WHAT DOES THAT MAKE YOU HUH?”

The nurse stood back, startled by the sudden tone and emotion. Ouma was crying, years of this mistreatment had turned into a game of just trying to get by, trying to win at her twisted game, so much that he remained the troublemaker and grinning trickster of the orphanage. And he was sick of it. He was so sick of smiling and acting just so people wouldn’t try to get under his skin. He was so sick of directing the blame and anger on him instead of it being on the other kids. He was so sick of being screamed at, being tormented by the people who were supposed to take care of him. So he stopped, smiling, and he snapped.

“IF I’M A FREAK, THEN AT LEAST I'M A LOT BETTER THAN YOU.”

The nurse growled, ready to shout again. But once again she was interrupted by a shaking, angry Ouma.

“IF FREAKS ARE PEOPLE THAT AREN’T YOU. T-THEN… I’LL FIND FREAKS!”

Angry tears flowed freely down his face.

“I'LL FIND FREAKS, A WHOLE GROUP OF THEM, AND SHOW YOU, PEOPLE LIKE YOU, THAT WE’RE .”

He was cooling down, sobbing now, wiping away his tears.

“I’ll… I’ll show you… that we’ll never kill anyone. Ever. Fucking ever. It’s so wrong.. so..so w-wrong.”

The nurse was silent. She was shaking too. Before she spoke, voice seething with malice.

“C’mon brat.”

She pulled him roughly up by the arm, Ouma didn’t even try to resist.

“You’re going to the cupboard for the night.”

Kokichi pov.

Kokichi almost felt like crying. These sessions of yelling, the uncomfortable smiling, everything, felt so familiar, and it _hurt_. He was… in awe at how his younger self. Honestly, he didn’t truly know how to feel as he watched young Ouma being pulled out of the door. 

Saihara was tearful too.

“Are… are we following them?”

Kokichi nodded, unable to feel like he could speak normally.

They walked past the children, who were gazing at the nurse, and the limp troublemaker she was dragging until they came to the hall, the one that they had rested in before… the one with the cupboard. The nurse didn’t even have to say anything, Ouma just got in, too tired to fight. She then pulled out a key and locked the cupboard doors.

“I’ll let you out in the morning brat. Sweet fucking dreams or whatever they say.”

Kokichi felt sick, there was a swirling, poisonous feeling in his chest watching this. It was over. This is what happened. He had lived in an orphanage. His parents had died. He had stood up, one fucking time. And still, he couldn't win. 

He watched the nurse walk away, as he heard the slight sigh, and sob from his former self. He couldn’t stop his voice from quivering as he spoke to Saihara.

“S..so that’s it huh.”

Saihara made no noise from beside him, just looked tearfully at the cupboard. They stayed like that, for a while, it felt almost…the need to give Ouma that company, even if they weren’t even there. After a while, Kokichi sighed and croakily asked something that had been on his mind throughout the silent vigil.

“Well... If this is it, why isn’t the memory ending?”

Saihara shrugged, too busy looking tearfully at the small cupboard. Kokichi chose to stare out the small window in the hallway, once again, awfully familiar. The swirling feeling grew until-

“Ouma… what if the memory just hasn’t ended?”

Kokichi turned around to see Saihara, pointing down the hallway. 

And there, was the little mask girl.

They watched as she crept up slowly to the cupboard, as soon as she got to it, she looked wildly around and murmured, in a soft, sweet voice.

“I’m going to get you out.”

There was only a small noise of surprise from young Ouma in response. The girl then proceeded to pull out a pair of hairpins and tinker with the lock. After a while, the lock came undone with a _click!_ And the cupboard doors screeched open. Ouma stepped out, a look of bewilderment across his face.

“...Why?”

The girl looked down at her feet, nervously.

“I was the one that broke that lamp... but it wasn't only that. Thank you. ”

Ouma’s eyebrows lifted, and on his face grew a smile. A genuine one. 

“Say… you’re pretty good with those lockpicks.”

She grinned. 

“You’re pretty good at taking down the batshit nurse. I heard what you yelled back.”

Ouma’s smile grew wider.

“And what about it?”

The girl finally met his eyes.

“I want to become one of the freaks.”

She stuck her hand out, and Ouma looked at it, more bewilderment growing on his face. The girl just laughed.

“It’s alright, this isn’t a weird trick, no ones asked me to do this, although, I do know where to get some hand buzzers, so next time you shake my hand... be warned.”

Ouma laughed too, a bit wearily though still, as though this wasn’t real, before shaking her hand.

“Nice to meet you I guess...? Uh...”

The girl flushed.

“Oh right! My name...”

Ouma giggled at her.

“Well, you see… it’s not very cool so… like…”

Ouma’s smile grew from bewildered to mischievous.

“Want a nickname?”

She beamed. Eyes glittering.

“Absolutely.”

Ouma’s eyes shone back. 

“How about Ace?”

She stood back from the handshake, beaming from ear to ear.

“Sounds good!”

Young Ouma looked like he was about to cry again, and moonlight from the small window shone in his eyes.

“Welcome to the freaks... Ace.”

After watching that heartwarming scene, suddenly there was a bright flash, and Kokichi and Saihara found themselves back in the circus tent.

Except…

Kokichi instantly saw where there had been a somewhat ghost form juggling circus balls before. Instead of them being juggled on their own, there now was someone juggling them.

Kokichi’s eyes filled with tears.

A girl, clad in white with long light brown hair in pigtails and an eye mask.

DICE’s first member. Ace.

And... Kokichi's first friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry my writings really bad atm!! Dont judge me too harshly, I'll try better next chapter.
> 
> Song lyric for chapter title is from Icicles by The Scary jokes.
> 
> Also... sorry if the abuse seems superficial... it was hard for me to write anything too realistic as it reminds me of my own reality. Stay safe everyone. <3


	8. Chapter Eight: I don't want to go to school tomorrow, I can't study Thinking about you~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi remembers the next member of D.I.C.E.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD IM SO SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE!! I HAD REALLY BAD WRITERS BLOCK AND I HAD A LOT GOING ON... IM SO SORRY! This chapter was meant to introduce two new D.I.C.E members, not one, but I knew I'd run out of motivation if I had to do two, so I'll try harder to maybe do two next time? Sorry again! I really hope you enjoy, sorry it's so rushed sounding.
> 
> HUGE THANK YOU TO RHEA WHO DID FANART FOR THE LAST CHAPTER, I LOVE YOU SO MUCHHHHH https://kirukaes.tumblr.com/post/621480460175998976/some-fanart-of-babykichi-ace-from-the-latest  
> Go check them out!!
> 
> Dedicated to: It'sSad-istNotSay-dist.
> 
> TW: Getting yelled at in class. Bullies.

Kokichi’s head was still swirling from the memory. The sight of seeing Ace juggling in the circus tent made him want to break down and cry, as his legs shook and let out, letting him collapse shakily and kneel on the floor. The memory had felt so right in his head, he could feel his younger self's paranoia, anguish, and defeat… as well as the tiny victory. He felt a familiar sore lump in his throat forcing its way up his throat, And Kokichi was terrified he couldn’t hold back his sobs from Saihara, but as he looked up at him, he saw that Saihara was teary-eyed, and quickly turned away, sounds of sniffling coming from him. The two spent a Very Macho ten minutes not looking at each other and trying their best to stifle the noises of their crying in their hands and sleeves.

After the sniffling died down, they faced each other and coughed awkwardly, and got to talking like nothing happened, even if their voices were croaky and their eyes were red. 

“Ah… hold on Ouma… you go investigate the new uh… member in the tent… while I talk to Hinata quickly.”

Saihara then quickly ran to a fair distance across the tent, golden pixels trailing behind him. He ran probably because he didn’t want to show Kokichi how teary his face was, as he was supposed to be the one to “help” him or some other weird reason. As soon as he seemed to be talking to Hinata (aka pacing around looking like he was talking to himself like a madman because only he could hear Hinata’s voice) Kokichi wandered cautiously up to what seemed to be Ace, juggling. But she took no notice of him as he stepped up, and continued to do the same perfect juggling action as if her every throw and catch was in a loop. And sure enough, as Kokichi reached out curiously to touch her, his arm went right through her, just as though she was… a ghost. Like how when he was in the memory, he was transparent to everyone else, a ghost. Someone who wasn’t there. 

_ … _

_...Haha… of course. _

_...of course, she’s not here. _

Kokichi sighed, there was a swirling nostalgic part in him that wanted her to be there, as questions and old feelings of memories he didn’t even remember yet swirled around his head when he looked at her, but logically, he knew it was impossible to see her. She was just a memory after all. 

“Hey.”

Saihara seemed finished talking to Hinata and was standing behind him, not wanting to interrupt the quiet scene. Kokichi didn’t feel like turning around and pretending he was fine just yet, so he just kept watching Ace juggle until Saihara spoke once again.

“Ah… I kinda knew she wouldn’t be real. Sorry. But… I hope it’s nice seeing her, even if it’s just like this.”

Kokichi just shrugged. He knew his behavior was rude and he looked like he was just ignoring Saihara, and guilt dripped into his mind because of it. Saihara was being so kind, and yet after even letting his mask down in front of Saihara, Kokichi felt terrible that at times he still felt paranoid of him. Saihara was… caring, and kind, and Kokichi wondered if Saihara was truly there for him… why? Kokichi wasn’t a great person, so why had someone so patient and good as Saihara come to help him? Saihara perplexed him, as Kokichi knew he was familiar, and he knew from the memories Saihara was… special to him. Yet thinking of Saihara also made awful emotions come to his mind, such as guilt and fear. Saihara was confusing but at least-

“Hey. Even if she’s not real, you can still go back to those masks, and find another memory of her right? And… the others that wore those masks too. You can take as long as you need, but when you’re ready, we can go explore back into those memories. It’ll… it’ll be nice to remember them.”

_ Pfft. Odd way of putting it. He… almost makes it sound like they’re dead. But he’s weirdly good at motivating me. They sent a jerk, a jerk that’s interesting and kind to me. A terrible fate. Cute jerk though. _

Kokichi took a breath in and out as he collected his overdramatic and sarcastic thoughts. He turned around and gave Saihara a small smile, his heart instantly speeding up at the way Saihara softly smiled back. Kokichi tried to tone down his flustered feeling by making a neutral face, and looking down to scuff his shoe on the ground and murmur:

“Yeah… well, I guess you’re right… and… thank you. For being here. I haven’t really said that.”

Saihara chuckled.

“I  _ chose _ to be here, you don’t have to thank me.” 

Kokichi looked up at Saihara, and let out a genuine smile of gratitude, not just a small one. 

It provoked an odd reaction from the other boy.

Saihara coughed loudly (and fakely) and quickly spun around and started walking to the masks, not wanting to face Kokichi. His voice seemed to crack loudly and awkwardly as spoke.

“W-well! Let’s get going if you… you’re ready!”

Kokichi laughed a little at the interesting boy and giddily walked after him.

-

The two stood in front of the masks, mentally preparing themselves for the next trip into Kokichi’s memories. The mask after Ace’s one seemed to differentiate from the others by not having any bold clown lips, just a very wide long line curving up the mask for a smile, along with bland yellow eyes, and of course, the classic red clown nose. 

Kokichi took a few deep breaths in and out, guided by Saihara and his techniques, feeling excitement and nervousness build up in him all at once. He was excited to learn more about D.I.C.E, and in doing so, learn more about himself, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to see himself get yelled at or bad things happen like the last memory. Secretly, he felt better if Saihara would be there with him once again. It was nice knowing he wasn’t the only one that got emotional over the memory. After a few minutes of preparing themselves, they looked at each other, and with a nod of readiness, Kokichi stepped forward and touched a mask for the second time. 

Just like with the last, the circus around then started disintegrating around them, pixel by pixel, and at the same time, creating different pixels to form a new area. The two held their breath anxiously during the process until the pixels formed around them to create… a classroom.

“Where… are we?”

Saihara pondered, looking around. Kokichi felt a flicker of joy that Saihara would be with him again through this. Kokichi looked around too, they appeared to be in a classroom… but it seemed far too familiar to his first mask memory. A middle-aged man was annoyingly slapping the blackboard with some messy calculations on it with a ruler. The man seemed to be in the same uniform as the nurses from Kokichi’s earlier memory, as well as the students being children of varying ages, all dressed in scruffy clothes and very tired looking. Kokichi concluded that they must still be in the orphanage, but they must’ve had some (probably poor) schooling tied to it. It was familiar, but Kokichi didn’t immediately get extremely strong feelings. He mostly just felt nervous by this place, and honestly? A little bored.

He looked around the classroom more, children’s faces yawning, some nervous, some familiar, and some… fidgety? There seemed to be a small blonde hair-sticking-up boy, just a few rows away from where Kokichi stood, who was loudly tapping his pencil on his desk, annoying the students around him. It was peculiar… but-  _ ah! _

Near the fidgety boy, there were a couple of desks with students, but at to the far right, by the window, he spotted Ace, and behind her, it was his younger self, poking Ace and giggling quietly about something with her. His heart soared at the sight. He beckoned Saihara over, but as he did, he heard the pencil taps of the fidgety boy get louder, and there was a shout from the old teacher.

“Oi! Kid! Stop that freak behavior!”

Everyone’s eyes turned to the boy, including Ouma and Ace, who then shared a look. The boy went red, tears forming in his eyes and dropped the pencil, embarrassed. The teacher went back to the lesson, but Kokichi saw young Ouma and Ace stare back at the boy, and exchange a few words.

Kokichi’s felt ribbons of curiosity curl around his head. He wondered what would happen next. 

-

(Young Ouma pov. Kokichi and Shuichi are watching everything, everyone can't see them obviously.)

“Hey… Ouma, you think Onion boy is okay?”

Ace asked, nibbling on her lip anxiously. Ouma just sighed, still staring at the short boy’s red face, puffy with embarrassment and trying not to cry. Most of the orphans weren’t given proper names, or the nurses didn’t care for them, so they came up with nicknames instead, everyone called the Onion boy, well, Onion boy. For his sticking up blonde hair, like the top of an onion. Onion boy had a habit of twitching and talking to himself in class, seemingly unable to focus on his classwork. As he peered closer at Onion boy, he could see the boy trying to work, yet small tears were slipping off his face and onto his paper. He felt a flash of sadness, then anger at his lousy, old teacher.

_ Asshole. You didn’t have to embarrass him. _

He tried his hardest to keep a calm tone as he replied to Ace’s former question about whether the boy was okay, whilst curling a lock of his dark, unruly hair.

“Obviously not. The asshole didn’t have to go that far just because Onion boy was fidgeting. He tippity-taps all the time, it's a pleasant break in the silence, and it’s not hurting anyone, I don’t think he can help it, unlike the dummy heads at the back who shoot spitballs at us every five minutes~”

Ace grinned at him and they turned back to playing noughts and crosses on their abandoned maths work. Kokichi figured it all out anyway, plus it was mega boring, and laughing at Ace losing for the third time in a row was much better. But before long, they heard the  _ thump thump thump  _ of Onion boy kicking his foot against his desk leg. He really couldn’t stop fidgeting. Ouma didn’t care, and just neatly swiped another cross, ending he and Ace’s game, in disappointingly, a tie. But as they drew up another game, Ouma heard another noise, not the tapping, but a slight  _ phoop! _ Noise. The small spitball had missed him, landing ungracefully on his desk. Ace looked at Ouma, and they frowned at the kids behind them, who were laughing. 

“Little present for you freak!” 

The tallest of them sneered, laughing harder.

_ Oh how… cliche. _

Ouma gave them an unimpressed look, he then picked up the small, wet spitball on the table and held it between two fingers. He looked back at them, showing it to them, the students getting confused at what was happening. Ouma then grinned.

“Thank you soooo much for the gift~!”

Ouma delicately popped it in his mouth and swallowed it.

The students went dead silent. Ace beside him was stifling her laughter. They turned back to their game, still listening to Onion boy's taps, knowing probably, no more spitballs would come their way.

But… if no spitballs were coming in their direction, then what other direction would they take?

The time ticked on, Ace was winning some, yet Ouma changed up his strategy, again and again, ever adapting. They did not talk while playing the silent game, yet drew teasing doodles at each other, Ouma getting punched on the arm by Ace after he drew a rather insulting one of Ouma with a crown on his head, sitting on Ace's back like a throne They giggled while squabbling, Ouma still feeling happy he lied about the lamp that day. But suddenly, another  _ phoop!  _ Sound of a spitball was heard, and surprisingly to Ouma, it wasn’t aimed at him. 

The tapping had stopped. 

When Ouma looked up to see why, he saw in Onion boy’s tuft of strange blond hair, was a dripping, disgusting, large spitball. Onion boy’s face grew redder and redder with every laugh from the kids. 

“Ooo~ fidget boy is angry huh?”

“Got something in your onion?”

The laughing and teasing continued, until fists shaking, ripping the spitball from his hair Onion boy stood up and turned around to face them, angry tears flowing.

“SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! STOP FUCKING LAUGHING AT ME!”

But by then, he’d fallen for the teasing. There was a shout from the front of the class. Onion boy whipped around, going from red to ghostly white, to face the furious teacher stomping up to him, face screwed up with fury.

“STOP THAT YELLING, YOU’RE DISRUPTING THE LESSON WITH YOUR  ** FREAKISH  ** TAPPING AS WELL! YOU OUGHT TO BE GRATEFUL YOU’RE EVEN HERE BOY, GET OUT OF MY CLASS-”

**_ SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM _ **

Everyone turned to face the new noise. And there was Ouma, slamming his small hands on the table and grinning. 

“Ooh, teacher~! I can’t seem to stop disrupting the class too, better send me out as well, or do you want me to yell the way he did, and disrupt the class further?”

The teacher opened his mouth to yell something else, but then came another series of loud noises, this time coming from Ace, slamming her foot against the bottom of her desk. The two grinned at each other, Ouma feeling a swell of warmth for his best friend.

The teacher looked like he was about to explode, and body red and trembling, he pointed at the door.

“Get. Out.”

Onion boy, shaking, hunched over under the teacher's gaze, stumbled his way out, Ouma and Ace following close behind, more positive looks on their faces. As soon as they got past the door though…

Onion boy started running.

Ace and Ouma stared after him, in blatant shock, before deciding to take chase after him, turning and twisting their way through the narrow corridors, until they all burst out into the sunshine outside. Onion boy kept running, onto the orphans fenced up field, and kept running until he could run no more, and crawled under a concrete table.

Ouma and Ace caught up to him, and as soon as they did, they saw the state he was in, angry and scared, crawled up to the very back of the table.

“Stay away! You just made yourselves get kicked out too, just so you could follow me and laugh at me too huh?”

Ouma, still out of breath, sat down so that he was facing the boy under the table, and he giggled.

“Nah, I was just bored and came out here to eat something, that teacher is such an asscrack, ruins my appetite. I have crackers, in my overall front pocket, want some?”

The boy, now more confused than upset, shook his head. Ouma just shrugged and offered some to Ace who sat down with him, occasionally side-eyeing Onion boy worriedly. They sat and ate in silence for a bit before Onion boy spoke up again.

“If you were just looking for a way to get out of the class and eat… why’d you chase me?”

Ouma lay on his back and stared up at the drifting clouds, swallowing another cracker.

“You couldn’t help but fidget yeah?”

After a few more moments of Ouma staring up at the clouds, Onion boy reluctantly made a small noise of affirmation, and Ouma smiled, suddenly rocking up again, full of energy.

“How curious! How interesting! Say… the teacher calls it freakish huh?”

The boy’s face suddenly wrinkled in offence.

“You’re Ouma Kokichi, right? Well, I have heard, as well as seen, you’re pretty freakish yourself.”

Ouma laughed again, before wrapping his arm around Ace’s shoulders in a half-hug and staring at Onion boy in glee.

“You’re very right! Ace is a freak too. Two freaks in a circus, outsiders, making our world of fun, we just can’t help it.”

Onion boy blinked, going from offended to curious.

“Isn’t… being a freak bad?”

Ouma hummed.

“Hard, yes, we freaks suffer through troubles that no one else has to. But it doesn’t necessarily mean that we are bad people. In fact, I find your fidgeting and tapping a nice distraction, a background noise, your so-called freakish nature brings a little bit of noise! A way to break the uneasy, silent chaos.”

The boy looked bewildered, as though Ouma was speaking another language. 

Ouma laughed at his expression.

“Your fidgeting isn’t freakish, it's just an unusual part of you, not bad.”

Onion boy was silent, before muttering a tiny:

“...Thank you.”

Ouma held out his last cracker, under the table, and Onion boy took it hesitantly, but as soon as he munched on it a small smile grew on his face. There was a quiet for a bit before he spoke up, compulsively needing some sort of noise, his voice lighter.

“So are you two like… boyfriend and girlfriend or something?” 

Ouma choked on air, but not for the reason you’d expect, he found the prospect hilarious, and howled with horse-like laughter, even Ace looked amused. 

“Nono we’re not. Dating Ace? She despises romance. Dating her? Disgusting. She’s more of an annoying sister-"

Ouma’s face was then promptly shoved into the dirt by the older girl.

“That's your  ** older ** sister to you! And I’m not disgusting, you cretinous clown boy!”

“Only by a month, disgusting sister!”

The two squabbled for a while, much to the amusement of Onion boy, who still sat under the table and watched until the two bizarre kids had messy hair and were covered in dirt. Onion boy chuckled when they were tired and finished.

“Heheh... you've convinced me... being a freak looks stupidly fun.”

Ouma and Ace shared another look and grinned at each other. Ouma reached his hand out under the table.

“Wanna join the circus then?”

Onion boy just stared at his hand, he’d never… had this happen before. He then tearily took it, and Ouma pulled him out from under the table, and into a hug along with Ace, cheering.

** “Welcome to the family little brother!” **

Onion boy sniffled, crying not in familiar sadness, frustration, insecurity, or anger, but happiness. They liked him for him, with his fidgeting and all. 

-

The three talked for so long, that as they walked back into the orphanage, the sun was setting. In the golden light dipping onto his features, Ouma was humming in thought.

“Whatcha thinkin about?”

The new little brother asked, wide smile now present on his face, something that would be seen again and again in his new future.

“Well…”

Ouma peered down at him inquisitively.

“I don't think your real name is really Onion boy is it?”

Onion boy shook his head and shrugged.

“It isn’t, and I don’t like it much, but I’d prefer a nickname to an actual name… makes me feel like I fit in more.”

Ouma’s eyes lit up.

“Duke!”

“What?”

“How about Duke? Duke of onions if you'd like, or the duke of noise, and duke of whatever you want!”

The newly-named Duke felt like crying again as he nodded, accepting the beautiful name as his own. 

His name was Duke. He had a family. And he was accepted.

And since that moment, smiling and warm, gold lighting up the sky as well as his heart, he realized this new, strong emotion had a name, and as it enveloped him, he realized... 

Perhaps The Duke of Joy could suit him quite well.

-

Kokichi gasped as the memory faded out. They were in the circus again. A huge smile settled on his face as he looked at the new member doing tricks in the tent. A skinny boy, with curly blonde hair, doing tricks and… 

Tapping away at drums, making a beautiful, chaotic sound.

The sound felt warm and happy.

It was the sound of Joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics in title is Marlboro Nights by Lonely God. 
> 
> Hope you have a lovely day/night!


	9. Chapter Nine: So trade that typical, for something colorful, and if it's crazy, live a little crazy~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Ouma goes wild, ft. crying saihara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THIS IS A DOUBLE UPDATE, SO READ THIS CHAPTER AND THEN THE NEXT ONE AFTER, AS I AM POSTING THEM AT THE SAME TIME.
> 
> -  
> Hi I'm alive. I'm so terribly sorry about the mega late update, and I was originally planning to release this whole thing in one big chapter, but it turned out to be over 10k, so I'm putting it into more digestible, two chapters!! Once again, I hope this makes up for everything, the lateness and the rushed mess of this all, I am... Very Stupid UIOHJTEWOUTHJEO. Love you guys, your support gives me life, and so much motivation.  
> -
> 
> THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO WHO!!! HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY YOU CUTIE!!!
> 
> -
> 
> Tw: emotional abuse, unfair treatment, basically human trafficking

Kokichi and Saihara sat and listened to the drums for who knows how long. They just watched Duke hit the same loop of beats, again and again, the two of them not being able to resist drumming their fingers or feet on the ground, and just smiling at the scene. As soon as they’d come out from the memory they had just sat down on the circus tents floor and let the beat flitter and flap its way through them, as though they were submerged in a deep pool of happiness, hypnotized with joy from the carefreeness of it all, even if it was only temporary. 

“Duke seems… wonderful.”

Saihara murmured, voice thick with a happy warmth, twitching his shoe to the beat. Kokichi turned to him, making a soft noise of agreement, and he realized the longer he looked at Saihara, the more he found himself smile. For no reason, just a weird playful feeling, he decided to reach out and give Saihara a playful flick on the shoulder, and in return, Saihara turned and chuckled at him.

“...Pfft. What was that for?”

Kokichi laughed, finally getting to see a happy, relaxed face on the other boy. The spontaneousness of the action confused him too, and he laughed.

“I… honestly don’t know…??”

Saihara’s face of genuine confusion only made Kokichi laugh more. Until eventually the hilariousness of Kokichi’s horse-like laughs put Saihara into a fit of laughter as well, the two laughing at the stupidness of it all, the simulation, the bizarre circus, the fact that they were laughing at a situation so serious. Eventually, the two settled down, but as Saihara’s laughter wore off, he looked at Kokichi, and then his face grew… somber.

“I uh… just realized I haven’t laughed like that in…”

Suddenly his eyes welled with tears as he stared at Kokichi, voice getting shaky.

“A… A… very long time.”

Tears started slowly dripping from his eyes, and then ran down his cheeks to fall onto his clothes, Saihara was wide-eyed, almost shocked that those tears came from his eyes. After a few seconds, his face suddenly grew tight, and he clenched his hands to his eyes, unable to stop the continuing tears, shaking sobs escaping.

_ What… happened? _

Unsure of what to do, yet spontaneously needing to help, Kokichi nervously and gently put his arm around Saihara’s quivering shoulders, holding him close, and not knowing what to say, he hoped the closeness would speak for him. Oddly enough, as he sat there and awkwardly stroked Saihara’s back, the action… was strangely familiar, as though he’d been in this position with Saihara before. Kokichi decided to shelve that thought away to the back of his mind, trying only to think of how he could be more of a comfort.

Eventually, Saihara leaned right into Kokichi’s arms face hidden into Kokichi’s chest, and respectfully, Kokichi just let him cry until over some time, his sobs turned into sniffles, and his body stopped shaking and just grew exhausted and heavy. Kokichi heard Saihara sigh, and before Saihara even said it, Kokichi knew what his words were going to be.

“Ouma… I’m sorry-”

“Stop.”

Kokichi felt Saihara’s body go tense with surprise. Kokichi then let his face and voice go as neutral as possible as he spoke again.

“Shum- Saihara… don’t be an idiot okay? You’re a hypocrite if you think you’re going to apologize for something like crying.”

Kokichi then huffed out a breath, making Saihara tilt his head up and face him, Saihara’s eyes red and puffy from all the tears. Kokichi grinned at him and twisted his finger around Saihara’s weird-ass strand of sticking up hair.

“Let me have a turn at being good and comforting okay Saihara? It’s not fair if you're the only one being a goody-two-shoes~”

Kokichi then tugged a little on Saihara’s hair, making the other boy chuckle, followed by a sniffle.

“Yeah… Okay. Thanks, Ouma.”

Saihara wiped away any remaining moisture in his eyes, and Kokichi felt a slight warmth pool in his chest. He had helped Saihara. Maybe. He had tried. He had tried to help someone who deserved it. 

Saihara was a good person, a wonderful, good person.

Saihara deserved comfort, warmth, and a shoulder to cry on.

Saihara deserved happiness.

-

Kokichi gazed at the masks once again. Saihara was finishing talking to Hinata and whoever the other one was, Kokichi had forgotten already. Kokichi was studying the next mask in the row very carefully, as it’s design… unnerved him. The mask didn’t have super wide lips and had a relatively normal-sized clown nose, but it’s  _ eyes _ . The mask had two painted, large, and maybe even realistic blue eyes. The eyes were looking towards the right, staring at something Kokichi couldn’t see. Even though the eyes weren’t staring at him, Kokichi just felt… paranoid. He shuddered, then jumped suddenly at Saihara’s voice behind him.

“Why are you shaking?- Ah! Sorry for scaring you!”

Kokichi grunted with embarrassment, then pointed at the mask.

“Its eyes… doesn’t it make you feel weird?”

Saihara took a long look at the mask, once again putting his hand up thoughtfully to his mouth, in the super dramatic way, then shook his head.

“Sorry, no. It just looks like an odd clown mask. It’s… weird you don’t like it as much though, as it seems like a style you’d like after all.”

Kokichi turned to Saihara, and gasped dramatically, eyes wide.

“Does Shumai think I like the clown style? Does Shumai think I’m a clown? Shumai is so mean~! I could just cry y’ know?”

Kokichi set off fake crocodile tears, while Saihara stammered “S-shumai again?” Before his face darkened with annoyance at Kokichi’s tears.

“I wasn’t saying you’re a clown, I just think you have… an interesting fashion sense.”

Kokichi stopped fake-crying and blinked at him.

“Huh? And how would you know about my fashion sense? I’m not wearing anything too drastic right now y’ know.”

Saihara groaned and face-palmed, face going slightly red. 

“You haven’t got all your memories back yet, but trust me when I say, you have… interesting decor.”

Kokichi smiled and winked at him. 

“Ah, when I get out of here I’m going to wear some piss-yellow crocs just for you Shumai!”

“OUMA PLEASE JUST TOUCH THE MASK ALREADY-”

Kokichi snickered, Saihara looked almost ready to pass out. __

_ Seems emo-boy can’t take my superior taste in fashion~ how cute~ _

Kokichi turned back to the mask, the playfulness with Saihara making his heart feel lighter, making him feel less wary. It felt nice… but at the same time, something in him felt like he shouldn’t be distracted so easily. 

He sighed at himself, and lazily tapped the mask, averting his gaze from its large eyes.

And once again, colors disappeared and reappeared around the two, swirling and twisting, and suddenly, they were once again, in front of a scene. 

It seemed to be evening. Young Ouma sat in a very tight room, at a small table, on the other side of him was Ace, playing chess with him. Kokichi grinned, he could already tell his younger self was going to win. Duke sat at young Ouma’s side, scribbling something down on some paper, and sticking his tongue out as he did so, seemingly very focused. Duke’s foot tapped away on the ground, but Ace and young Ouma didn't notice, or just didn't care. Kokichi peeked closer, as did Saihara, and they saw Duke was writing down a series of words and letters, paired with a bunch of dots and lines.

_ Morse code. _

Kokichi looked at Saihara, both of them realizing what it was, and both of them having the same look of confusion.

Just what was his younger self up to?

-

** Young Ouma pov. **

Ouma made one of his classic giggles to himself, he would win this round of chess. Kokichi still had a rook, his trusty knight, his queen, and a pawn or two to defend the king, yet Ace seemed to be down to her queen and bishop and very few pawns scattered around the board. Kokichi was setting up a trap, he was making it look like he was going to move a pawn to Ace’s side of the board, but in reality, he was making it so that he could take down her queen as soon as she moved to take down his pawn before it reached her side. He smiled as she reached for the board. But, she didn’t move her queen. Instead, she moved her bishop, right towards Ouma’s knight. If he didn’t move his knight, his knight would be lost, but… if he moved his pawn, he could be at a bigger advantage anyway. But… the knight seemed so important. It was the piece he was best with, always moving at a chaotic L-shape. But… if moving his pawn put him in a better position, he’d have to sacrifice his knight.

_ It’s just a game… besides, if it puts my pieces at a better point, then fine.  _

He felt… oddly sentimental for his knight as he slid his pawn forward and watched Ace take down his knight as he did. He exchanged his pawn for a queen, as it would allow him to win, yet, he still felt oddly sad, even at the end, as his queen quickly decimated her king, there was an illogical part of him that wished he hadn’t sacrificed his knight. He quickly chose to ignore it, he was just getting attached to an object, it was childish, sacrificing it had allowed him to win, and that was that. As they put the pieces away, he put the knight in the box first, trying hard not to look at it anymore.

As soon as he and Ace finished tidying up the poor-quality pieces, he heard Duke’s pencil drop. He whipped around to hear Duke let out a tired sigh.

“Finished. I’ve memorized at least a few simple phrases and most of the alphabet into morse code.”

Ouma smiled at him as he tousled his onion-like hair, and hearing Duke let out a small, embarrassed whine made Ouma laugh. 

“See~ I told you! You can work well! Given the right conditions, you’re a smartypants!”

Duke grumbled something, blushing and getting flustered from the praise, tapping his foot on the ground as he did so. Ace giggled at the scene, smiling at her friends, and giving Duke a slight hug on his shoulders for a good job, which only furthered Duke’s blush, making the other two laugh even more. Duke had never really gotten any compliments or positive feedback, as he struggled with concentrating and schoolwork, but Ouma had realized that when given peace, a gentle murmuring of noise, some help when he asked, Duke was an incredibly quick learner, even when Duke didn’t believe in himself. So Ouma and Ace had helped him after school, coming somewhere dusty and quiet, and either helping or leaving him to tap away and work. Duke was far from a bad learner, he just needed a different system from the other kids.

“So anyway, what are you trying to get me to learn morse code for? You never said.”

Ouma was snapped out of his thoughts by Duke himself, eyes wide with curiosity. Ouma hummed at the question, watching Duke move from tapping his foot to tapping his fingers on the dusty table. Ace looked at Ouma curiously too, she hadn’t been told either. Ouma twirled his hair, grinning.

“Well~ for you in particular Duke, you have an interesting habit of tapping, I realize it helps you, it calms you. It’s not a big deal, but to me, it is. Not in a bad way! It’s not bad at all, it’s extremely useful. If you can use your tapping to make yourself a system of morse code, we can communicate without even having to speak, anywhere we want, as your taps are suuuuuper normal to everyone else, and they would never know there’s a code behind it all!” 

Duke was taken back, yet his eyes glowed with excitement. His habit that others hated, that he couldn’t stop doing, yet something he needed… turned into something more than just being something to help himself, but a secret way of helping others too. Happiness sprung into his eyes, and he quickly wiped them, a wobbly, glowing smile present on his face. Ouma patted his shoulder, and Ace gave him another quick hug. While hugging him, however, Ace peered at Ouma, inquisitive as always.

“Hey, Ouma… why do we even need a system like that? Are you... planning something?”

Ouma’s face went neutral, before he giggled, looking a bit on edge.

“I thought you’d ask. Actually… I’ve found out something.”

Ouma quickly pulled out a piece of paper from who-knows-where and placed it on the table. It was... a chart? Ace and Duke peered at it closely, before gasping. Ace whipped around to face Ouma, shock clear on all her features.

“It’s... it's a tally of how much money the orphanage is earning! As well as how many people have been adopted or have left over the past decade. Ouma where did you-”

“I have my ways.” Ouma bowed with a flourish of his hand.

Ouma stood behind them as they studied it further.

“Do you perhaps see anything odd about our little orphanage?”

They did. 

Ace went pale as she spoke again.

“The orphanage is earning… a lot. But how? We live in a poor region, and everything here is old, dirty, and… gross…”

Ouma cocked his head to one side.

“Check how many people have, you could say, ‘left’ this place over the past decade. As in, they’re not adopted, just got too old to be adopted, and were at a legal age to leave and live on their own. How many Ace my dear?”

Ace drew a shaky breath.

“Just… twelve. Twelve out of the one-hundred and twenty-three people that have become of age.”

Ouma clapped his hands.

“Ding, ding, ding! They don’t leave, because they stay and work here. The orphanage doesn’t have to give them funds or support, because they’re not leaving, the orphanage just keeps their money, as well as new unpaid employees that get to live here for free, and work to be a nurse or matron, or do some other strange tasks! Due to the poorness of this region, it’s not worth the risk to leave… so they stay, and work here like servants to the higher matrons for the rest of time.”

Ace’s jaw was loose with shock, and Duke’s fists were balled up and shaking, Ouma continued to keep up his happy facade, not wanting to break.

_ This is how I felt too, I’ve known this for… a long time. Truth hurts. _

But Ouma hadn’t finished just yet.

“Also… check out the kids who have been adopted… the results are… interesting.”

Ouma felt a sharp pain in his chest as he watched Ace, then Duke’s faces morph into those of confusion, then horror.

“They’re all…”

Duke pointed at the descriptions of the kids that had been adopted, unable to speak.

_ Deaf. _

_ Rebellious. _

_ Mute. _

_ Autistic. _

_ Missing a limb.  _

_ Blind. _

_ Anxiety-ridden. _

_ Weak. _

_ Depressed. _

_ Sick. _

_ Insane. _

“What… does this mean?”

Ouma’s face went neutral once again, he didn’t want his expression feeling as though he was going to crack with his emotions. He felt cruel, revealing the truth to them, but it wasn’t like they could live in this cruel lie. Ouma understood lies, but this... this was just pure filth. Kind lies weren't very fun when you're blind to the people getting hurt.

“It means… that they’re unfairly getting rid of the kids who they see… not of use to them. Giving them too… not well-off parents. No one cares about how adults treat children here, all the adults they’re adopted off to could use them for… unhealthy purposes. I think the orphanage knows that the matrons and nurses here will do anything to get them off their hands.”

Ouma huskily explained further. Duke’s eyes welled up with tears, and he kicked one of the chairs, letting it bounce off the wall violently. Ace was just staring at the floor, hands over her mouth, shaking. 

This orphanage was cruel to those who weren’t “normal” and unfair to all the kids they kept here, raising them, and then convincing them to stay. Ouma had seen kids come and go ever since he’d arrived here, ever since he was a toddler, he’d seen the patterns, the kids never leaving, and the ones who did were sent to somewhere worse. He’d grown up knowing that this place wasn’t safe, wasn’t happy. He’d known since the start, he’d known that the walls breathed, and the ceiling judged. He’d see the same scared, angry, saddened, and hopeless looks… the same ones he’d seen in his parents… moments before they… went. Perhaps that’s why he recognized the looks from the start, faces of despair were sadly familiar to him.

It was hopeless. Utterly hopeless. Any hope for a happy future for anyone at the orphanage, even them, seemed to suffocate inside the orphanage walls. Leaving means perhaps dying poor, staying means being trapped forever, and if you didn’t fit the “standards” of the matrons, you’d end up somewhere worse than the former options. Ace and Duke felt like they couldn’t stand, that is until-

“Hey, Ace!! What are some of the main themes of chess?”

Ace tore her gaze from the floor, expression looking like a deer in the headlights. 

“W-what?”

Ouma was smiling.

“Oh, I just asked, what’s some of the main themes of chess? What does chess challenge?”

Unblinkingly and fuzzily, Ace answered.

“I-I guess um… logic… strategy… sacrifice…”

Ouma flashed a grin.

“It challenges risk-making too. Most of the time, you must take risks, even small ones, otherwise, you’ll be stuck on the losing side, slowly getting chipped away at until you’re gone. 

His voice sounded more manic and rambly with every word, as though he was out of breath.

"Sure, non-risk moves at times may be the safest move, but you’ll always be more on the defensive side by never taking risks…”

Ace and Duke dully listening to the rambling Ouma, confusion splayed upon their faces as he looked mad, eyes wide, out of breath, gesturing vaguely.

“We’ve been playing on the defensive side for a while huh? Why not take a risk instead?”

Ace weakly moved her hand onto Ouma’s shoulder.

“Ouma. This is all too much. What the hell are you saying?”

Ouma patted her hand, grin too wide for his face.

“Oopsie! Hell? Ace said a naughty word!”

Ace’s grip was tight but shaky.

“Ouma I’m being serious. Please.”

Ouma’s smile was far too strained, his eyes were too dark, and at that moment he thought to himself:

_ My face hurts from smiling. I’ve been wearing this mask for far too long huh? I’m… tired. _

Slowly, slowly, he let his face fall, his hair softly fell down his eyes, and his voice was sincere and low, his eyes were hopeful, wild, yet pleading and scared.

“I’m saying we should leave.”

Ace’s face turned rigid, eyes huge, Duke’s hand was tapping and shaking against his leg.

“Ouma… what?”

Ouma shuddered, and finally, he collapsed on the chair near him, head tilted, voice shaky.

“Please… just listen. We need to leave. I’ve been here for too long. Seen too many kids… just kids… looks of hopelessness too big for their young faces."

Ace shuffled, her voice shaky too, yet she still had some strength left to her words.

“Ouma… we can’t… under other circumstances, I wouldn’t mind leaving, but… it isn’t fair. The cycle will still go on if we leave… and anyone here who the matrons don’t see as… useful… will suffer even worse fates than anyone else. We can't leave when we know that's happening.

There was a heavy silence in the room, even Duke was still, tapping gone, Ace’s head drooping and still. Until there was a slight shifting from Ouma, and when Ace looked up at him…

He was crying.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks, but he was smiling, eyebrows furrowed.

“Ouma?”

“I knew… I knew you’d care… I hoped you'd stay that.”

Ouma gave out a sob and quickly tried to rub away tears with his fist.

“Ace… Duke… I know what would happen if it was just us leaving already. I knew it would be selfish, and cruel. But…”

He drew a shaking breath, trying to make his speaking less croaky.

“We should… we should take anyone who could be adopted out. Or people who are just… in a bad place. And in the end… if we get enough people to leave… perhaps it could inspire the other kids to leave too.”

Ace and Duke didn’t move, didn’t speak, Ouma couldn’t even look at them.

“I just… don’t know how much… longer I can stay here… and I know it’s risky… but I just… I want you guys… and everyone else t-to… be free. So please…”

Ouma raised his head and stuck out his hand.

“Will you join me-”

He didn’t even get to finish, as he was slammed on both sides by his two best friends, both of them crying and crushing him into an awkward sandwich of a half-hug around the chair. 

“You crazy idiot... of course we will.”

“You don’t even have to ask Ouma…”

If Ouma was succeeding at controlling his crying before, he certainly wasn’t now. He shakingly stood up from the uncomfortable chair, allowing the other two to hug him more, and he clung onto the backs of their shirts and sobbed. He never thought he’d have people on his side. But here he was, crying his eyes out, in a warm embrace, with hope for a freedom that wasn’t lonely, one he’d only dreamt of before. The three stayed in their hug until all tears had been shed, and all cold fears had been driven away by the warmth of each other's arms. Once they’d calmed down, they broke apart, tired, but smiling. 

Ouma picked up the work Duke had been doing and folded it neatly.

“That’s also why I wanted you to learn morse code. There may be times when we can’t speak out loud, so… it’s a good skill. You could use it to signal to us, and no one would suspect a thing as other kids, or the matrons would think it’s your normal tapping!”

He handed the sheet of paper back to Duke and smiled. Duke took it, and reached out to Ouma’s arm, giving it a few taps and hits. Ouma was confused, but suddenly, he realized.

Duke was tapping “Thank you.” In morse code.

_ He truly is a fast learner. _

Ouma felt another tap on his shoulder, not from Duke, but from Ace, he turned around to see her beaming, softness plastered all over her face.

“Ouma… no matter what happens, I’ll still be here, as your first friend, and perhaps even your unofficial older sister-”

Ouma let out a mock gasp.

“Older sister! I can’t believe you! Only by a month! We’re practically twins~”

Ace slung an arm around his shoulders and ruffled his hair with her fist.

“I’d rather die than be born at the same time as you! You’d give me clown disease from being in the same womb! And I was saying something nice so shut it!”

“Nuh-uh!”

Duke sighed as the two tussled. They did this at least eight times a week. Eventually, the two stopped fighting and just giggled, lightly punching one another, until Ace gave Ouma another small hug, and lightly whispered:

“I love you, idiot.” 

Ouma felt like he was going to cry again. That’s the first time anyone had ever said that to him since he’d come to the orphanage. He gave her a whisper back, hugging her tighter.

“I love you too, and I wouldn’t mind being your unofficial brother one bit, stupidhead."

Ace gave him a tight squeeze, then released him, with a smile and a determined glint in her eyes. Duke came up behind her, the same determination echoing in his features as well. The self-proclaimed freaks all joined hands, all with a single thought in mind.

**_ Who’ll be the next member of our circus? _ **

-

Present Kokichi smiled at the scene, feeling warm. Saihara nudged him, the same warmth was written all over his face, and especially in his smile. But… there hadn’t been a new member to match the mask just yet. Just as Kokichi pondered this, the world around them began to change, and break apart, and suddenly, they were in a whole different room, and strangely it felt like it had been a while since the last memory. It felt like it had happened days ago. Strangely enough, he was drawn to a boy in the room, he was large, with a face full of fear, but kindness. As Kokichi looked closer, he realized. 

_ The boy had a faint shimmer of a mask around his face. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the lyrics of The Other Side which is a song from The Greatest Showman Musical!
> 
> ALSO ONE LAST IMPORTANT THING! I might make a discord server for this fic, so in your comments, maybe put a little side note saying if you'd be interested in joining, however it will be 13+.


	10. Chapter Ten: I never want to, become just like you, it's pretty simple, wish I could tell you why.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the fourth member of D.I.C.E.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER BELONGS TO A DOUBLE UPDATE, I AM POSTING TWO CHAPTERS AT THE SAME TIME, SO GO BACK AND READ CHAPTER NINE IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY.
> 
> TW: Emotional abuse/manipulation.

The blue-eyed boy had always felt guilt. Guilt that he could never do the right thing, could never listen properly, everything. Perhaps guilt had driven him to be kinder, to want to make up for not being perfect. Perhaps that’s why he was here, letting little kids climb all over him as he plaited a little girl’s hair. All the younger kids in the orphanage… found him trustworthy. Well, mainly the younger ones, maybe they saw him as a comfort, he was a very large boy, both in weight and height, but he didn’t care one bit, it made him be seen as a large teddy bear to hug, sleep on, or play with. 

Older kids seemed to not like him much, but most of the time they never seemed to notice him. He wasn’t bothered by them, and if he was, well, it wouldn’t last long. Because… in this orphanage, he had an advantage over them, he had protection. He was… the unofficial… Chef’s Son. He wasn’t truly her son, but he worked for her, every day. On the first day he’d come here, she’d picked him to help her in the kitchen. And so he'd been her assistant for years. He helped her with breakfast, lunch, and dinner that she made in the dining room for the orphanage. He put up with her constant grumpiness, made her tea when she needed rest, made sure she was comfortable… and… took on her biggest fits of anger.

Everyone ended up calling him “The Chef’s Son” or “Chef’s Son” he didn't mind it, because he looked like her, big blue eyes and all, but also... if he was good, helpful, grateful, and useful… Chef said she would adopt him. If she did, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting adopted by someone cruel, or being thrown out of the orphanage into the dangerous, awful world. Chef was his savior, she wanted him, even though he knew he was worthless, even if he knew he wasn’t useful. He would be good to Chef and do everything right, and maybe one day be good enough for her love. Good enough for her to adopt him.

Although... There was a single thing he’d do out of line. As he worked for her, The Chef’s Son also always took an extra morsel, a bit of dough, a handful of chocolate chips, a slice of pastry. After he had finished working, he would take the stolen morsels to the room of the youngest orphans, and give them the little treats, he’d often pretend it was a King’s Feast, and these were the exquisite dishes, making the children giggle, that was probably the real reason the younger kids loved him so much. This was the best part of his day, the part when he didn’t have to feel so guilty, the part where he could just enjoy the moments of being useful, of being someone, even just to some little kids.

“Hey… Chef’s Son…”

The little girl made Chef’s Son break out of his thoughts, she was staring up at him as he was in mid-plait of her hair. 

“Uh! Yeah? S-sorry!”

Chef’s son stammered, patting her gently on the head. The little girl blushed and looked down at the floor.

“H-hey… what’s your real name? Other than… y’ know Chef’s Son…? We all call you that but, c-could I know your real name?”

_ Real Name. _

Chef’s son hadn’t used or heard his given name in so long. He’d almost forgotten it. It… no. He shouldn’t be thinking about that. Chef always told him to be more dedicated to... Well.. her. More grateful. If he chose to regain his old name now, she might notice the change and start to think he wasn’t fit to be adopted by her. He couldn’t lose that. The more dedicated to her he was, the more chance she’ll adopt him.

“Er… Sorry. My name isn’t that important… you can still just call me Chef’s So-”

That’s when he noticed it.

The distinct feeling…

** Of being watched. **

He whipped his head around, and suddenly his eyes fell on where the presence was going from. A young boy was watching him…  _ oh. _

He recognized the boy, the blonde boy was a bit younger than him, so there used to be times when he’d bring the boy treats from the kitchen, for all the younger kids. The Chef’s Son wasn’t a lot older than the blonde boy, only by one or two years, so they’d used to chat a little. He remembered playing marbles with him. He remembered the boy’s familiar tapping habits and his hair… like garlic? No…

_ An onion. _

_ Oh, that’s it! Onionboy! _

Onionboy seemed to be just… staring. Staring at him and… tapping on the wall, the same old tapping he used to do, although… the motion of it somehow different, more… in sync, a stranger to the boy wouldn’t notice it, but the Chef's Son did. The oddness and the staring creeped the Chef’s Son out a bit, so he patted the little girl’s hair, telling her he was going to retire for the night, tying up her perfect plait in a small, gold hair tie. She blushed and waved goodbye at him, looking a little sad, but holding on tightly to her plait all the same, as if it was a cuddly soft toy.

All the little kids whined as he took their wrappers, their leftovers (very little leftovers though, just bits of dough that might’ve been too healthy for their sweet-tooth tastes) and said goodnight. He laughed as one or two tried to stop him from leaving by hugging his legs. He just tickled them and hugged them back, promising he’d be back soon. He felt sad to leave, but he had to dispose of the wrappers and put back any remains of treats at the kitchen before Chef found out.

Yet… he still felt like he was being watched as he left. Even as he passed through the halls, heard the shouting and growlings of nurses and matrons, saw kids run-pass, he still couldn’t escape the paranoid feeling. Eventually, he picked up his pace, beginning to speed walk, then run. It seemed like the walls were watching him, and he could almost hear the windows creak with the outside wind, his imagination turning their creaks into words, as though they were gossiping their disappointment in him. For a split second, he thought that their disappointment voices sounded very familiar. Almost like- He spun around corners, avoided kids, till he got to the dining room, and as quickly as he could, dashed into the kitchen room, and slammed the door behind him. It was then he realized his puffed-out deep breath, and he sighed with a mixture of relief and exhaustion, but somehow, being in the kitchen always seemed to make his anxiety rise. He didn’t know why, there was nothing wrong with it.

Everything was dark.

Everything was still.

Everything was quiet-

** “I fucking knew it.” **

Suddenly, the lights came on. The Chef’s Son whipped around to find someone standing there, face red, eyebrows knitted together, and lips pulled into a strained, tight smile.

It was Chef.

A cold fear suddenly washed over Chef’s Son, he couldn’t feel his legs, he couldn’t feel his body, all he could feel was his heart, pounding through his chest and roaring in his ears. All the warm feelings he had when he was with the children has suddenly disappeared, he could only feel the  _ guilt _ , once again.

“Ch-Chef.”

Chef stomped towards him, he could see her face getting redder, and sweat starting to drip from the top of her forehead. She roughly snatched the packets of food away from his hands. She held them, her fists trembling, and her voice low, and angry.

“How could you. How could you fucking betray me.”

The Chef’s Son was almost her height, but at that moment, he felt like she was a giant, his head was bowed to the floor, he didn’t dare to look her in the face.

“I-I just-”

Her voice ripped through the air and seemed to slice right into his body.

“After everything I’ve done for you… You go behind my back and waste my food. After I look after you after I take care of you. You pathetic little-!”

“Ch-chef please! I...I... just wanted to be kind to the younger kids. I’m sorry I h-hurt you… I’m sorry I betrayed you. Please. P-please, let me make it up to you! Please, anything! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Mom!”

_ Mom. _

He’d called her Mom for the first time, he hadn’t even been adopted yet. He had no idea how Chef would react. But he hoped he’d live through it. And if he didn’t, maybe then she would forgive him.

Chef was silent for a while, yet Chef’s Son could feel her eyes jabbing into him. When it seemed like forever had passed, Chef’s Son felt brave enough to look at her. But as soon as he saw her face, he regretted ever looking up.

Her face was stone-cold. Her eyes were blue ice, it was worse than a fiery rage, it was precise, calculating, sharp, cold anger. Like a deadly icicle, her words aimed right for where it hurt. 

“Mom? You think you have the right to call  _ me _ , Mom?”

“N-no, I’m sorry, I accidentally-”

“You know, you say accidentally ** ,  ** but I think I’m the one who has made the accident.”

The Chef’s Son choked on tears making their way down his face.

“W-what do you mean?”

Chef smiled, a smile which stretched along her face like a thin wire, and she leaned down close to him. 

** “I think I should've never even thought about adopting someone as useless and pathetic as you in the first place.” **

There was no life left in Chef’s Son’s body. No tears to choke on, no heart-pounding, no voice to speak. He couldn’t feel or hear of it, there was nothing left. 

_ He was numb. _

He had no reliable future if Chef wouldn’t adopt him. Chef was the key to everything, he should be grateful to her, and he betrayed her. He was just useless and pathetic as Chef said, of course, he felt guilt.

Chef spoke up again, but it just felt like white noise to him.

“You know... I’ll give you one last chance. I’ll let you work for me still. I may still consider the adoption. But you’re not allowed to go to school at midday anymore. You have to stay working with me all day. Perhaps, because of my kindness, I’m giving you, you could put in a word for me at the higher-ups. Not many children do that for staff… maybe you could… just for me. You owe it to me almost.”

Chef’s Son grew desperate again, he had another chance, one more chance.

He numbly nodded, still unable to move properly.

Chef gently patted him on the head, warming some life into him.

“You poor child… you must be so glad I take such good care of you… I let you eat the food… I keep you out of trouble… ever since you were a child you know? I picked you. As the former chef did the same for me, they picked me too. If you were adopted out, other parents would’ve beat you, or hurt you, for much less, but I've never laid a violent hand on you. I’m keeping you safe from this rotten world by letting you stay here.”

Her eyes were still cold, yet her smile was relaxed.

“You can be on your way. But be back here tomorrow, nice and early. Be here for me. I need you here, this kitchen could be your home, just remember to be grateful for it.”

Chef’s Son nodded again, feeling empty as soon as Chef removed her hand from his head. He turned around, pushed open the door, and left, dragging his feet down the hallway.

With every step he took away from the kitchen, it was easier to breathe. He could feel his heartbeat, and in every single step, the rapid beating of his chest got slower and slower till it was a normal rhythm. Well normal for him at least, his anxious heart rate was always a little fast.

He remembered what had happened beforehand, with Onion boy, but that felt so long ago, and he was far too tired to care. He… knew what happened in the kitchen might not have been great, but it was his fault that he had angered her and betrayed her. That kitchen and Chef was his home. He had to repay Chef’s kindness. 

_ So why. _

_ If Chef cares and is kind to me. _

_ Then why… _

He leaned against a wall and let out a weak sob.

**_ Why… am I so terrified of her? _ **

The hallway may have been creepy, but it was late now, so not many kids were about, at least… as far as he could see. He slid against the hallway wall, curled up, and let the thick tears swell from his tired, heavy eyes. __ He was ashamed of himself, he’d put this on himself, and now he’d lose any freedom he had, and it was all his fault. He was on bad terms with Chef now, and his chances of getting adopted were slipping. Chef was right, if he was adopted out, he would be hurt for way less then this. Even if he stayed at the orphanage but without being under Chef’s wing, things between him and Chef would be bad, and perhaps the matrons would see him for the useless boy he was. 

He was so terrified of Chef, yet he still needed her. She cared about him… right?  _ She cared. She cared. She cared. She cared. She cared. She cared. _

He did that mantra again and again in his head. Every word ringing through his head, getting faster, and making more tears fall. 

_ Shecared.Shecared.Shecared.Shecared.You’reUseless.Shecared.Shecared.Shecared.You’reStupid.Shecared.Shecared.Shecared.Youdon’tdeserve- _

** Tap. Tap. Tap. **

Chef’s Son whipped his head up, he could hear a tapping noise coming from nearby, and suddenly, the feeling of being watched returned. The tapping noise got louder and louder, it seemed to be made with someone’s foot, but in a pattern, not the normal tapping of walking. 

“Ahem~”

Chef’s Son made a choked noise of surprise in his throat, a small voice had suddenly come from the dark, a few meters in front of him. All senses heightened, Chef’s Son quickly and anxiously wiped his tears.

“W-Who’s there?”

He cried out, but his question was soon answered. Three small figures walked into his view, and as his eyes adjusted, he could make out the one who was doing the tapping.

_ Onion Boy! I should’ve known from the tapping... _

The one in front, closest to Chef’s Son giggled.

“Sorry~ We didn’t mean to scare you, we’re just here to talk, and honestly, look at us, do you think we could do any harm to you even if we tried?”

This was true, they all seemed to be a bit younger than him, and relatively short. The squid-haired, feminine-looking boy closest was said to be a troublemaker, but he wasn’t violent, just annoying. The pigtailed girl behind him was taller, but she seemed to blend into the background, not start a fight. Onion Boy was well… Onion Boy, he got in trouble a bit too, but he was a sweet kid, and he did get angry, but never violent.

Chef’s Son let out a sigh of relief.

“So, uh, why do you want to talk to me?”

Squid-haired boy picked at his sleeve, his sing-songy voice dropping for a second.

“We… sorta overheard the Chef-Lady yelling at you.”

The Chef’s Son gulped, and he felt his face burn. He saw the pigtailed girl lightly slap the boy on the shoulder like she wanted him to say something further and he sighed.

“Okay, okay, by overheard, I mean we sorta, kinda, eavesdropped. We wanted to talk to you, but then Du- oh, I mean Onion boy saw you running off, so maybe a bit concerned, we followed, and then we… y’ know. Heard the whole thing.”

Chef’s Son didn’t know what to say. There was silence in the dark hallway. Until Chef’s Son shamefully, shakily opened his mouth.

“Then you must know how awful I-”

“Heyhey! Why do people call you the Chef’s Son? You just work for her right? You’re not even adopted by her, huh?”

The Chef’s Son felt a slight swell of annoyance fill his chest as the boy brought his tone up to ask a rather... touchy question.

“I-I will be adopted! She said I would. I’ll be her son one day.”

The boy hummed, looking up at the ceiling at nothing in particular.

“Why do you want to be her son anyway?~”

Chef’s Son thought for a moment.

“I suppose well… I’d be safe. Chef is, and would be a good caregiver. She doesn’t beat me even though I’m well… not the greatest. She protects me. She would look after me, and I wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of risking life in the horrible world outside if she adopted me. I’d stay here, repaying her kindness by helping her, and well, being her son.”

The boy didn’t stop looking at the ceiling.

“How long has she been saying she’d adopt you?”

Chef’s Son shifted where he sat.

“Well about… ever since I started working for her. Since I first came here, when I was a lot younger.”

Suddenly the boy looked at The Chef’s Son. His face was blank but his eyes were wide as if he was staring right through him. 

“Oh~ that’s interesting. So she’s been saying that from the start.”

Chef’s Son shifted more, uncomfortable of being stared at in such a way.

“Y-yeah so what?”

The boy’s eyes grew wider and his mouth curved into an uneasy grin.

“I think she’s been getting you to do things for her from the start by dangling a prize over your head. She promises you adoption, but will she ever truly act on that?”

_ Who does he think he is? _

The Chef’s Son suddenly felt a surge of anger in his chest, and he stood up, rising taller than the small boy.

“She will! She’s good to me, she’s a lot better than you think! She’s kind! Better than most!”

The boy, grin still uneasily settled on his face, stepped back, the other two giving him a wary look.

“Oh~? And who says she’s better than most? Does everyone say that? Upon hearing her speak to you, I certainly don’t think that. What makes her so great? Is she kind, or is that just her voice drilled into your head. A lying voice, dripping with fake promises and declarations. Let me guess, she tells you that she’s kind, and you believe her huh?”

Heat surged into Chef’s Son’s voice at the nameless boy’s remark.

“Shut up! She’s protecting me! She hasn’t hit me, not once! I know that others would. She  _ is  _ kind. She’s protecting me from how horrible the outside world is!”

Beads of sweat formed on the boy's face, yet determination held steady in his eyes.

“Are you saying this to me, or are you just trying to convince yourself?”

Chef’s Son held his silence as the boy continued.

“And who says that the outside is horrible? Who says that others would hit you? Think, it’s all her. You’ve been lied to.”

_ No, no it isn’t true! She would never. She’s good, she’s kind. But…  _

“Think about it.”

The boy's voice was shaking now, yet he still held steady.

“Everything you listen to is said by her! You’re being fed manipulation. She’s not protecting you or being kind, she’s using you, she’s trying to get promoted, she’s using you to help her. Have you ever felt scared of her? Do you feel like you have to sneak around her? She’s never hit you, but it doesn’t mean she hasn’t hurt you. Just think, you won't be happy with her, even if she adopts you!”

Chef’s Son felt pale.

“Sh-Shut up! Why… Why are you telling me this? I need her!”

The boy's face lost his determination, he looked down at the floor. The taller girl came to his side, murmuring something in his ear.

Unexpectedly, Onion Boy stepped forward.

“Ouma is telling you this because… after hearing her say all that to you, we’re all worried. Chef doesn’t… seem good.”

Onion Boy was nervous, Chef’s Son could tell by the way he was fidgeting and tapping on his own arm.

“We came here because we wanted to ask if you’d like to join us. We’re going to leave this orphanage someday, and… we’re trying to build a family till then. I suggested that you come with us. You were always kind to me when I was younger… and I know you’re not doing great. So please…”

Onion Boy stuck a hand out. 

“Please… join us. You don’t have to be with Chef anymore, we can be your family instead, I promise, none of us will yell at you like that, ever.”

All of Chef’s Son’s anger dissolved, now he just felt lightheaded. He didn’t know what to do. But…

_ I don’t want to let Chef down… I can’t… I can’t accept. Not when Chef has given me one last chance. Chef… Chef cared.  _

Chef’s Son shook his head, and slowly and quietly walked off into the dark hallway.

He had missed his chance of a lifetime, he ended the game before it had even begun. He had lost, by giving up for someone who didn’t care about him in the first place. He would return to her, and once again be entangled in her puppet strings, possibly being manipulated and controlled, just for a chance that he would be granted a promise that had been a hidden lie all along.

-

Duke stood, watching him go.

“Ouma… what do we do now? Should I… let him leave?”

Young Ouma seemed a little shaken, Ace still at his side. 

“Y-yeah. Let him go.”

Ace’s murmuring started in Ouma’s ear again.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Ouma swallowed and smiled at her.

“Of course~ I need to get more confident, and… for a second there, I just… remembered something. For a second, it felt like I wasn’t talking to him anymore. I just thought about some… bad things. He’s a tall guy. Not his fault though.”

Ace nodded, a little confused, and gave him a slight squeeze.

“It’s easy to slip into bad memories and thoughts huh.”

Young Ouma shuddered.

“Yeah.”

Duke was still staring after Chef’s Son, fidgeting nervously.

“Ouma… we can’t leave him like this. We… we have to help.”

Ouma shakily walked forward and patted Duke’s shoulder, eyes determined once again.

“Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

-

The Chef’s Son felt his eyelids wearily close, before he tensed and shuddered, his eyes suddenly flicking open again. The kids that he was spooning cafeteria food to looked at him, confusion and maybe even concern flicking across their faces. He waved at them, smiled, and splattered whatever liquidly meat-like-substance he was serving onto their trays. He hadn’t gotten much sleep after Chef had caught him, and his talk with… that boy...  _ Ouma. _ That’s what Onion Boy had called him. 

_ I think she’s been getting you to do things for her from the start by dangling a prize over your head. She promises you adoption, but will she ever truly act on that? _

_ And who says she’s better than most? Does everyone say that? Upon hearing her speak to you, I certainly don’t think that. What makes her so great? Is she kind, or is that just her voice drilled into your head. _

_ Think, it’s all her. You’ve been lied to. _

Every word came back in sharp pangs. Chef’s Son still couldn’t get the boy's words out of his head, they’d been seeping into his thoughts all morning. He blinked fuzzily as he scooped out more bubbling monstrosity out for a rather lanky teen. Chef’s Son could cook far better, but this mush was the only thing Chef had in the freezer, probably found among the outdated packets in an aisle of only the dodgiest store.

A voice rang in his head, not a memory but an intrusive question.

_ She gets money from the orphanage to buy food. If she buys only the cheapest, then what does she do with all the spare money? _

Chef’s Son shook his head, irritated at his thoughts. He sighed and looked to the next orphan he was serving, he expected to find a kid who would look at him oddly again, but it was someone far worse.

A short, skinny boy with a grin too wide for his face, stuck out his tray.

“Heyhey! One scoop of existential horror please~!”

** Ouma. **

Chef’s Son felt frozen, he was only slightly aware of the ladle shaking in his hand. He expected the boy to say more, to give him a gesture,  _ anything _ . But all he did was smile patiently, eyes bright, yet showing no emotion. You could almost call his expression  _ sly _ .

“S-sure…” 

Chef’s Son murmured, putting a sparing amount on the small boy’s tray. Ouma grinned wider and skipped off.

Chef’s Son’s mind was racing.

_ Perhaps… maybe he didn’t recognize me? It was dark last night. No, he would’ve. Maybe it’s a sign of peace, that he’s pretending to not know me at all, maybe it’s- _

**_ CRASH! _ **

_...Huh? _

It sounded like someone had dropped a tray. Chef’s Son peered over to where the noise had come from, children were already gathering or looking there as well. 

“Ow! What was that for? How could you knock me over!”

_ That was Ouma’s voice. _

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I was just walking and-”

_ Onion Boy…? _

All the kids in the line had run over to where the argument was. After hearing Onion Boy’s voice, Chef’s Son gulped, and ran out from the serving area, heading into the small, murmuring crowd.

Ouma spoke again, voice rising.

“Shut up. I’m sure you knocked me over. How could you? We’re friends after all~!”

Chef’s Son found his way through the crowd, to see Onion Boy on the ground, tray tipped over, and Ouma standing above him, angry, slight contents of his tray spilled on the ground, but otherwise, he was fine. Onion Boy shakily spoke again, on his knees as he tried to pick up the spilled contents of his tray.

“I… I’m sorry but-”

“Sorry isn’t enough!”

Ouma growled, yet oddly enough, he was tapping at his arm as he did so. Ouma leaned over, staring down at a fidgeting Onion Boy.

“If you want to stay friends... I suggest you carry my tray for me, then I may consider being your friend again…”

_ Hold on. _

“Now pick up my tray, idiot.”

Now, Chef’s Son was an anxious person, but if there was one thing he valued, that he’d protect, were the young children that he’d tried his best to be kind to. Onion boy was one of those children.

“Shut. Up.”

Every head turned to him when he spoke, including Ouma’s. 

“Ooo~ What was that?”

Chef’s Son was shaking, in fear or determination, or anger, he wasn’t sure. He walked right to the center of the crowd, where the two were. 

“Ouma. I said shut up.  ** Now. ** How dare you call him an idiot. He doesn’t deserve that.”

Ouma sighed dramatically and turned to Chef’s Son, a small smirk on his face.

“Oh?~ doesn’t deserve that? I haven’t hit him or anything~ Therefore I haven’t hurt him right?”

_ Wh... What? _

Chef’s Son felt… strange. Something was off. Ouma walked towards him, a glint in his eye.

“I’m offering him another chance. I’m being kind to him. He still gets to stay with me. He has to carry my things, do my chores, but isn’t it worth it? He’s happy with me, I’m good to him.”

_ You’re… you’re lying. What’s going on? _

Then he noticed. Onion boy was still kneeling on the floor, head bowed over, but… 

Onion boy was smiling.

Ouma came close enough so that only Chef’s Son could hear his words, his face darkened, and his expression went neutral.

“I don’t care if you stay with us or not. You stood up when he was hurt, so why can’t you do that for yourself too? You just proved to yourself that you have the bravery to do so. You deserve not being treated like crap, whether you believe it, or not. If he doesn’t deserve it, neither do you. Take that prize she’s dangling over your head, and smack her in the face with it. You can stay in the place where you most fear, stay in a prison of lies, or… you can walk away and not look back, and see how it feels to be free. But just remember, if you decide to stay, what do you think will happen? Well, you’ll grow up, and when the old bird dies out, you’ll take her place. You will be the warden of this prison, and the cycle will continue. ”

Something, something deep inside Chef’s Son, pondered those words, felt them, connected with them, and consumed them. What grew from that, was a flicker of light. A hope, bravery, a bit of kindness and self-respect. A bit of that truth resonated within Chef’s Son, and suddenly, he felt fear, but also, a warmth, one that burned through his guilt a little. It was like a memory or a feeling that he’d forgotten. A hunger to be free of the darkness was born.

Ouma gave him a knowing look and another one of his classic smiles.

“The choice is yours~! Good luck!”

And he skipped off, helping up Onion boy on the way, leaving the crowd bewildered.

Chef’s Son stared after him, and unconsciously, he knew that this moment was a moment of truth, a moment of freedom, and a moment of bravery. 

A moment where Ouma had proved that things could  _ change _ .

-

It was dark again, and the Chef's Son was shaking. This time, however, he wasn’t running, he wasn’t panicking, his strides down the hallway to the kitchen were strong. You can be strong and still feel fear, even the strongest of people still got scared. Chef’s Son felt as though he wasn’t very strong, but perhaps overcoming and leaving the thing bringing him most of his anxiety and doubts, made him stronger than the fear he was feeling.

He’d been messily scribbling a pros and cons list in his head, ever since Ouma had pulled that stunt in the cafeteria.

_ Leaving Chef: _

_ Pros: _

  * _Won’t be yelled at._
  * _I could maybe find a new family, one who’s… better._
  * _Won’t miss out on school._
  * _Won’t have to work all the time with no pay._
  * _I… may feel happier._
  * _I won’t have to worry about whether she’s lying or not._
  * _Won’t have to worry as much maybe._
  * _I can hear my thoughts again, not her voice._
  * _Maybe I can rid myself of the guilt, and find an innocence deep down._



_ Cons:  _

  * _Won't get adopted by her._



_ Adoption also means that I’ll still live in fear, means I’ll still have her voice in my head, and eventually, I’ll become the next Chef of the orphanage, and put my fear into someone else. I don’t want to be her. _

  * _Won't have a secure future._



_ If I stay here anyway, I’ll just be miserable. So why not leave and see if the world out there is as miserable as the one in here? _

  * _Could get adopted by someone else, who hurts me more._



_ Then I’ll run away again. I won’t be so blind. _

  * _Won’t see Chef anymore._



_ I still… I still love her. She’s still like a parent but… a parent wouldn’t scream at me. Wouldn’t hurt me. I can still love her, and maybe? Still visit her, but loving something when it’s harmful… isn’t love. Maybe it’s best not to even visit. _

It was settled then, the pros far outweigh the cons, and the cons still were a controversial topic in his mind. He was walking to tell Chef he was going to resign from working in the kitchen and cafeteria as her assistant, then leave. He knew that it wasn’t going to go as perfectly as that, but he had the strength now to at least try.

He arrived at the kitchen doors and stood, taking deep breaths, and trying to hold that flickering light, that bravery that he had shown in the cafeteria, in his mind. He took one last deep breath and opened the kitchen doors. 

Inside he found Chef, leaning over one of the benches and writing something, probably a food list, while also lazily pouring flour into a plastic cup. She didn’t even look at him, just grunted.

“I’m busy, so make it quick.”

Chef’s Son took another deep breath, and shakily stood his ground, then he said the words he’d been rehearsing in his head, in a single breath of air.

“I’m not going to be your assistant anymore.”

Silence.

Then her head snapped towards his direction, face contorting with anger, and unreadable emotions.

** “What?” **

He stood his ground, but he knew his legs were shaking.

“I said, I’m not going to work for you in this kitchen anymore. I resign.”

Chef then stood up, her voice deep and shaky with rage.

** “How dare you. After everything, I’ve done for you. Take it back right now.” **

He knew his voice was shaking, but he knew his words were brave.

“O-or what? You’re going to hit me? Prove that you’re just as bad as the others? You’re not going to adopt me? Then g-go ahead.”

The look on her face after he said that, it was a mixture of anger, fear, but also complete and utter shock. At that moment, due to his words, she realized she didn’t hold any power over him, and now her mind was scrambling for a way to get it back, she knew anger wouldn’t work now. Chef’s face crumpled, and rage gave away to complete sadness. 

“How could you do this to me? I’ve done so much for you… and now you turn your back on me? I feel… used. I really do.”

Chef’s Son shifted uncomfortably, not expecting this reaction. He took another breath and spoke more quietly, trying to use that light and warmth to fight away oncoming guilt.

“Look. You chose to take care of me, for the last four years, but you also… hurt me. You chose to take care of me, but you chose to hurt me. I’m… just a kid. I feel I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve to be constantly s-scared of you. Whatever you’ve done for me, you have also hurt me in the process. I’m the one that should feel used, I was picked by you to help, I was picked by you to make you feel better, I was the one picked by you to be constantly yelled at, me, not you.”

Sadness turned into panic on her face as he shakily turned around, and began to walk away.

“W-wait! I’m so sorry about those things! Please, I need you! I’ll even adopt you! R-right now! Please don’t leave! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll adopt you… I’ll change… please.”

Chef’s Son stopped and turned around. He’d been offered the only thing he’d wanted for years. Chef saw his face, he was crying, but smiling, plump tears rolling from his blue eyes, down his cheeks and his lips.

“Chef… you… I hope one day, you will find a way out of this cycle.”

He finally turned to open the door, but Chef had lost it, her fear had turned to anger again.

“YOU UNGRATEFUL BRAT! WHO WOULD EVER WANT YOU ASIDES FROM ME HUH? COME BACK HERE, YOU USELESS LITTLE-”

The blue-eyed boy didn’t turn around, and his voice was calm.

“I’m wanted. I think there are people out there that have shown real care for me, and even if I’m not cared for, I’ll still care for myself and others. I hope one day, you can feel wanted and cared for too.”

He took one last deep breath in the prison of lies and fear.

“Goodbye Chef.”

And with that, he stepped over the other side, the doors closing behind him with a quiet slam. He then collapsed, sobbing. Chef never came out, he wondered if she was crying too. He must’ve cried for a long time because when he stood up again, he seemed to be standing in oblivion, complete darkness. He was exhausted from crying, but at the same time, he felt lighter, as though a huge weight had been lifted. 

His overwhelming guilt and fear were gone.

As he walked down the hallway, he laughed as he realised finally why it was so hard to breathe near the kitchen before, it really was a prison. He knew that it would be a long time until he stopped doubting himself for his decision, he knew it would be a long time before he healed. 

But he was willing to be patient and to be brave.

And as he heard tapping, and felt the familiar feeling of being watched, he found that the familiarity of it wasn’t scary at all.

-

A person. Someone Ouma had never known, and never will, was murmuring to one of the higher-up matrons. The matron was nodding and smiling as she wrote down a single name at the top of the list.

_ Kokichi Ouma. _

The matron had been anonymously informed of  ** rebellious behavior  ** from the boy, by a certain witness. Finally, she had an honest reason to get rid of the little brat.

Kokichi Ouma was next to be adopted.

-

“Y’know you didn’t have to join us. It’s not that we don’t want you here, but just because we may have helped with your mommy issues or whatever, doesn’t mean you have an obligation to be with us.”

Ouma murmured, staring concernedly at his cards. The blue-eyed boy gave him a grin.

“I know, but, you still showed care, and besides, Onion bo- no, Duke, and I have a lot to catch up on. He still owes me from when I bet him at marbles.”

There was an angry flick at his shoulder from Duke, and the blue-eyed-boy chuckled, earning a polite grin from Ace across the table.

The newest member of the family smiled at his final card, he was nervous but hopeful. Ouma placed down a king of clubs, smirking.

“Last card! Whatcha got you on you, new member~? Prepared to lose?”

The blue-eyed boy delicately placed down his last card, a Four Of Clubs.

“I win!”

-

Saihara and Kokichi gasped as they found themselves back in the circus tent. Saihara’s face was filled with far too many emotions, and Kokichi was just so tired but happy, all he could do was smile. A new movement from the room suddenly caught Kokichi’s eye.

There was a boy, donned in a blue-eyed mask, chuckling as he spun around plates on top of sticks.

It was Chef’s Son-

No, Chef’s Son had died, along with the fear and anger and guilt that controlled him for so long.

This was a new person, one who’s identity had been reborn. One who wasn’t controlled, one who was brave, one who was kind, one who was free.

This was Clubs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the song: Wash, by FLOOR CRY. 
> 
> I may be putting up a 13+ discord server for this fic, if you're interested, maybe put it in a side note of your comment? No pressure though!
> 
> ONCE AGAIN, SO SORRY ABOUT THE MESS OF THIS CHAPTER.


	11. Chapter Eleven: And they thought me broken, that my tongue was coated lead, but I just couldn't make my words make sense to them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi remembers pain from his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!! This chapter is my birthday chapter!! It's the 27th where I am wheeeeeeee.
> 
> Due to popular vote, I have made an official Loading Memory: Ouma Kokichi discord! 
> 
> Tomorrow we will be having a fic Q&A, and perhaps you can drop off a happy belated birthday or two! 
> 
> Discord is here! https://discord.gg/sHWGBEs
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to my good friend Chinta! It's their birthday a day after mine, happy birthday sunparrot, love you!
> 
> (AND HUGE SHOUTOUT TO GHOST WHO MADE ME AMAZING FUCKING FANART!! WOOOOOOOO)
> 
>   
> Also, this chapter is very badly done and rushed, especially in the 4th quarter. I'm very sorry, but let me off a little for my birthday, I was panicking hewuihwiosghes
> 
> TW FOR CHILD ABUSE AND BURNS. (You get the point. :') )

“You know… I can understand Clubs.”

Saihara said, eyes lost in thought as the two walked slowly around the new form of Clubs with his swirling plates trick. Kokichi gave Saihara a small hum, prompting the thoughtful boy to speak further. Saihara shifted, twiddling with his thumbs wistfully as he spoke.

“I’m… at that high level of anxiety too, if, well, you hadn’t noticed yet.”

Kokichi chuckled at him, but not in a harsh way.

“Shumai, I’ve noticed, but you’ve probably noticed that I’m not exactly sane myself, so I think that makes us even.”

Saihara grinned back, continuing to speak.

“Due to… reasons. I’ve had high anxiety all my life, and as well as that, I never really had confidence. But because of people important to me I…”

He looked at Kokichi for a brief few seconds, before his face dipped into a warm smile.

“I had found that bravery. The bravery for myself, and the bravery to speak the truth, to be brave for others, I found a part in myself that I never thought I had.”

Saihara’s eyes looked distant and mellow, and he had a hand over his heart.

“I hope Clubs continues to be brave. Fear and anxiety can drive you away from things you didn’t want to leave in the first place, I know that firsthand. Nowadays, it’s harder for me to be brave. Not… not after everything. I hope I can learn to be brave again, for everyone.”

Kokichi tilted his head.

“What about yourself too? Club didn’t stand up for anyone else in the end but for him. I think that maybe… maybe you found that bravery for others like he did with Duke in the cafeteria, and now like him, you should try to find it for yourself.”

Saihara paused, narrowing his eyes at Kokichi.

“Stop psychoanalyzing me. That's my therapist's job”

Kokichi let out a hoot of laughter, flicking Saihara lightly on the shoulder.

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat~ I’m not a super smart emotion person, and you’re a dumbass for not being brave for yourself, you’re too interesting for that.”

Saihara frowned, flicking Kokichi back playfully.

“Analysing people is my job, I’m the detective here.”

“Oooh~ gonna arrest me?”

“Maybe- augh!”

Saihara flinched, grasping at his ears, as though he’d heard a loud noise that Kokichi hadn’t. Concerned, Kokichi put his hand forward, eyes wide.

“Shumai are you-”

He was interrupted by Saihara letting out a sigh, before addressing someone who wasn’t there.

“Sorry Hinata! We’ll hurry up- HEY! We weren’t flirting!”

_Oh. It’s just Hinata Hajiface or whatever._

Kokichi giggled at the blushing Saihara before giving a smirk and shouting to no one at all:

“Hey, Hinata!~ How ya doing? Are you cranky because we’re talking? Do you want to take a little old man nap? How old are you~? Thirty-four?”

Saihara could only groan, a teasing Kokichi and a tired Hinata probably don’t mix well.

-

Nagito could only watch his cranky husband’s face turned into one of disbelief. Hajime's voice went grumbly.

“Who the fuck does this gremlin think he is…?”

Feeling an argument coming on, Nagito softly patted Hajime on the shoulder.

“Now, now Hajime… he’s a kid, a teasing one at that, you saw in the game how he is-”

“Saihara tell him to shut up! I’m still in my twenties!”

“Aaaand you’re already arguing…”

Nagito sighed as he watched Saihara uneasily tell Ouma what Hajime had said, it was like a bizarre version of the carry-on whisper game you’d play as a kid. Nagito inwardly face-palmed as he saw Ouma’s challenging grin rise at what Hajime had said.

“Oooo~ Twenties? Man, a millennial or perhaps… a boomer?”

“OHO, THE LITTLE DEMON IS IN FOR IT NOW!”

And so, Nagito's grumpy husband and Saihara’s mischievous friend argued and teased for the next good while, Nagito and Saihara stayed out of it, however, looking exhausted and done with life.

“So… Komaeda, it’s been a while, how you been?”

Saihara's dull voice echoed from the monitor, Nagito barely hearing him over Hajime yelling. Nagito rasped out a reply, tying his long hair up as he did.

“Oh y'know… depressed, anxious, and insecure, but also in love with my husband, the usual. You?”

Saihara gave a tired chuckle.

“About that same, minus the husband part. On that note, this is going to be a strange request, but do you mind just shoving some anxiety medication into my unconscious body? It’s got to have been awhile, and I keep forgetting to ask.”

Nagito grinned uneasily at the odd question before he gasped.

“You’re right. It has been... quite a while! I will get right on that Saihara, but first!”

Nagito glided his real arm around Hajime’s shoulders.

“Hey love~”

Hajime blushed, stopping his argument with Ouma.

“W-what?”

Nagito’s eyes narrowed, yet he still smiled.

“You’ve been doing this for far too long..”

Suddenly Nagito’s eyes went cold.

“ **Get some fucking rest Hajime Hinata.”**

Hajime groaned, blinking his red eyes, making the dark circles under his eyes stand out even more.

“Look, I appreciate the concern, but I got this, I’ve got the Ultimate Talent shit and all, I need to put it to good use.”

Nagito sighed once again but kissed him on the forehead before removing his arm.

“I thought you’d say that. I’m sorry about this. Hey Izuru, could I have some help please?”

Suddenly Hajime’s form went rigid, his expression going blank, and his voice going deeper.

“It was entertaining watching them argue, however, I’m hating the exhaustion I’m feeling on our body, so I’ll do as you wish and knock him out for the next few hours. Goodbye Nagito.”

Nagito gave a little wave.

“Thank you. Bye Izuru!”

And with that, Izuru gave a small smile, and Hajime’s body promptly collapsed on the desk, snoring loudly.

Nagito chuckled and played with his husband’s spiky hair a little.

_Sorry dear, that was a dirty trick, but you’re far too stubborn, and you can grumble at me all you want when you wake up, but as long as you’re rested and well I won’t mind one bit. But just in case, I’ll wake you up if anything big happens._

Nagito spoke softly again into the monitor.

“Sorry about that, he gets grumpy when he’s tired. I’m going to supervise on my own for a bit, and I won’t forget about your medication Saihara. Good luck!”

Nagito turned off the mic and settled into his chair, smiling.

With Hajime’s talents canceling out his luck cycle, and with this new life on the island, Nagito had grown small scraps of confidence in himself. And while watching Saihara blush as he talked to Ouma, and how Ouma’s grin looked more real around Saihara, he realized that his hope for them to be okay had grown as well.

-

“Y’know Saihara! I think this circus tent is cursed! It’s made my body not move!”

Saihara only gave Kokichi a look of concern or even pity in reply.

Kokichi had been standing in front of the next mask for the last ten minutes, looking at it was making his legs feel shaky. He had a terrible feeling about his mask, as though touching it would hurt him. The mask had large curled red lips and crosses for eyes, and its little red nose seemed to be on a sort of snout. It didn’t look threatening in itself, but the very feel of the mask made him feel pale. Kokichi had a very logical mindset, and he didn’t believe in anything religious, spiritual, or supernatural, it was just illogical to him. But he could swear this mask had a prickly, _burning,_ aura to it. It made Kokichi want to itch his skin. 

Of course, Saihara’s disgustingly kind voice cut through everything.

“Well… whatever this uh, cursed circus tent is doing to you, we can always wait till its effects wear out. Take your time.”

Kokichi groaned and Saihara gave him an odd look. Saihara was far too nice, he was probably a bit impatient, he just didn’t show it. Kokichi decided to suck it up, feeling like he owed Saihara for his patience. Besides, aura’s aren’t real, it was just anxious nonsense Kokichi’s head was making up. 

“Oh look at that! The circus tent has released me from its curse! We can go now I guess!”

“H-huh? It’s okay Ouma, we really can wait for a bit-”

“Nono! We better go now before the tent decides to trap me again!”

Kokichi lazily drew out his finger and slid it weakly down the mask.

As the world flew around them, Kokichi expected them to end up in the orphanage somewhere, except…

This was outside. 

There was a dirty truck and an opened gate attached to a chain-link fence. Ace, Duke, and Clubs seemed to be standing just inside the fence, in the gap of the opened gate, but they looked… miserable. Kokichi, curious, peered out to see what they were so upset at, and that’s when he saw it.

It was his younger self, loading things into the truck.

Kokichi felt sick. He felt a lump of dark dread well up in his chest.

He was getting adopted. 

-

Young Ouma tried to keep a smile up as he put his only belongings in the muddy, old-looking truck’s trunk. He only owned a few sets of clothes, socks, and some boxers, so he could carry everything in his arms, and they could stay with him at all times. 

Ace, Duke, and Clubs were watching him from the Orphanage’s doors, he could feel their stares on his back. They were all distraught and he knew it. The matrons had told Ouma a week before, in front of everyone, that he was going to be adopted. Since then, Clubs could do nothing but pace anxiously, Ace, numb, had stopped tying her curly hair into pigtails, her eyes empty, staring at nothing but the ground. And Duke, for the whole week, had slept in Ouma’s single bed, sniffling for hours in his brother’s arms until he eventually passed out from exhaustion.

_Bam!_

Ouma jumped, frightened out of his thoughts by his-now-adoptive-parent slamming the trunk with Ouma’s belongings in it shut.

The man who was adopting him was rough-looking, but he mainly just looked _depressed._ He had dark brown hair that was getting long and filthy, a white shirt was stained with who knows what, as well as a rather wide nose, and eyebrows too big for his dull grey eyes. He was watching Ouma intently, especially when Ouma didn’t get into the truck along with his stuff. Ouma could tell his impatient confusion with just one look, he didn’t seem much of a talker.

“I uh… just need to say goodbye to my sib- ah, friends. I promise I’ll be right there in two minutes!”

The man narrowed his eyes at him, before sighing and getting into the driver’s seat. Ouma took this as a sign of allowance, so he quickly ran over to the three, very teary-eyed individuals. As soon as he came into a short distance of them, all three opened their arms and squeezed him, he could feel their arms all shaking as much as he was.

“Ouma please…”

“You don’t have to do this!”

“P-please brother… I don’t want to see you go…”

Ouma said nothing, but squeezed them harder, not wanting to leave the warmth and love, something that he may not ever feel again. Feeling a sense of worry if he took too long, he had to drag himself away from them all after a few seconds, already feeling the chill and the fear. 

He wouldn’t show his absolute terror to them though.

“C’mon guys! Cheer up. You still have each other, and… hey. I’ll work something out, and I will try my best to get back to you all within two months. If not, try your best without me.”

Ace was sobbing fully, Clubs was empty-eyed, gently patting her back, as well as Duke’s, who was urgently clinging onto Ouma’s sleeve, and tapping:

_Please don’t go._

Over and over again in morse code.

Ouma grinned, but he felt a sob forcing it’s way up to his throat. He didn't let it.

“You guys… you’ll be okay-”

Ace suddenly sprang towards him, holding him by the shoulders.

“You- you idiot! We know we’ll be okay! We’re worried about you..! Think about yourself for once! Please, please just…”

Her sentence broke out into a sob, and Ouma bit his lip, his heart feeling as though it was going to melt from her words.

_No one’s ever been worried for me before… oh… you wonderful, awful, people._

Ouma carefully removed her arms from his shoulders, clenching her hands as he did so.

“Ace… please, take care of them while I’m gone. You need to give yourself more credit, you’re the smartest person I know. Stupidhead twin.”

Tears were still pouring out of her eyes, but she nodded grimly.

Ouma moved to Duke next.

“Hey, Duke…”

Duke was still clinging to him, blank-eyed, but still tapping the same urgent message as if he was in a trance. 

“Hey Duke… you’re going to be okay. I...I’m going to be okay.”

Duke shook his head slightly.

“Like Ace said, you don’t know that! S-stop pretending everything’s fine, and just run! You can r-run away and you won’t ever have to do this...!-”

Ouma’s face seemed happy, yet his eyes were still filled with dismay.

“Duke… we talked about this, you know I can’t do that. If I ran away, I wouldn’t be able to see you anymore, the orphanage wouldn’t let me back in. And even if you guys run with me, we’ll still be leaving behind the people who are struggling too okay?”

Duke hiccuped but nodded, but he wasn’t done, as he flung out his arms and clung onto Ouma, and quickly tapped a message on Ouma’s back. It was funny how a message like that was only eight letters, but to Ouma, it held more weight than a dozen paragraphs would ever.

_I love you._

Ouma gulped, swallowing back down that lump in his throat. He patted Duke on the back, and released him, trying his best to keep up a wobbly smile.

“I-I love you too, and… I will find my way back, don’t doubt me for a second that I won’t. I’m not leaving you all behind, no matter what, I’m coming back here, and one day I’ll run, but when I do, I’ll be running hand in hand with all of you.”

Duke chuckled a little at that, as the last sentence rhymed. As Ouma patted him on the head, he could see Duke already tapping that last sentence, as if it was a calming mantra.

Finally, Ouma turned to the very dismal-faced Clubs.

“Clubs… we haven’t known each other for that long but I-”

Suddenly, he was swept up in a bone-crushing hug by no other than blue-eyes himself.

“O-Ouma… thank you for helping me… p-please be safe, and you better be brave like you taught me if that man hurts you!”

Ouma chuckled.

“Of course big guy, and… please keep an eye on the others for me. Give Ace a new book from the old shelf every day, she’s smart and it’ll keep her distracted, and… Duke has trouble sleeping, so he might want a hug before he sleeps, but he’s just too embarrassed to say it. Take care of yourself too, and if, _when_ , I come back, I’ll challenge you to another game of chess. You’re the only one who isn’t a sore loser.”

Clubs gave him another squeeze before releasing him, and Ouma wished he could say he didn’t feel his ribs pop.

Ouma took a little look at his family, trying to memorize every little detail so he wouldn’t forget. They may all be freaks, weirdos, and oddities, but so was Ouma, and as long as everyone remained themselves, they would still be connected, no matter how far away.

Ouma, not knowing what else to do, goofily put his hand up to his forehead in a soldier’s salute, and the three sadly, doing the same. He didn’t want to say it out loud for the perhaps last time, so he said it in his head.

_Goodbye._

And with that, he turned tail and ran off to the truck, hearing their shouts of farewells as he left. It was only when the truck started up, and he stuck his head out of the window and watched his family get smaller and smaller in the side view mirror, did he finally drop his smile, allowing his tears to go free in the wind.

-

Ouma clung onto his belongings like a child clinging to a stuffed toy as his new “father” led him into the filthy house. Upon entering the front door, the stale smell of cigarettes hit him, making him shove his hand over his nose and mouth, trying his best not to gag or splutter. Inside the first room had only a couch, a desk with a lamp on it, and a drawer built into the desk that seemed... to be padlocked? Papers were scattered everywhere, and an old fireplace was littered with broken and burnt sticks and logs, yet it seemed to not have been lit in ages. Stairs separated the lounge and unkempt kitchen. The man spoke, seemingly for the first time since they’d met, pointing up the stairs.

“Your room is up there to the right. The rules here are to obey me, and with distractions or misbehavior, you must stick to work only, and then go to sleep at exactly eight pm, no earlier or later. I am busy all day with work and paperwork, so I am not to be disturbed. You will wake up at exactly six-thirty am, and I will set you your work for the day. **Trust me, I see everything that goes on here, any rule-breaking will not be tolerated.** Oh, and when I say no distractions, you will not be interacting or talking to the other orphan boy here, whatsoever. Although talking to him would be hard because, well, he’s mute.”

Ouma was stunned.

_Another… orphan? From my orphanage? Mute? Is he the one from the list?_

The man gave a bellowing, sick laugh at Ouma’s expression.

“Funny right? Mute! Oi, mute boy! Get down here! By the way, he doesn’t have a name, so calling him Mute boy is fine.”

A young, tall, boy with neat dark hair came quietly down the stairs. He looked nervous, and the man clapped him on the back in a friendly manner, but Ouma didn’t miss the way the boy startled and shook when he did so. The boy’s eyes were a beautiful amber color, which Ouma marveled at briefly, before realizing the true nature of the boy's eyes. They were flicking around the room nervously, and even when he noticed Ouma, he didn’t look him in the eyes. Ouma, not knowing what to do, gave him a grim smile.

“Ah… nice to meet you! Name’s Ouma Kokichi.”

Ouma let out his hand for a handshake, and the boy hesitated for a few seconds before he shook it, awkwardly. Ouma decided calling him: _Mute boy_ was unflattering, so in his head, so he decided to nickname him _Quiet Boy_. The boy seemed to have the same shyness and quietness he’d seen on many other kids. Besides, it seemed more of a sweet name. 

“Go put your shit in your room. Then Mute Boy here can show you how things work.”

Ouma nodded, then quickly padded his way up the stairs, taking note of the more creaky ones. He entered his room, and he sighed at the mess of it. There were boxes full of random assortments and dust and cobwebs peeked out at him from every space and the single, small bed had old, grey, crusty sheets, well as the bed frame missing a leg, so it had been stacked up with bricks and books where the leg should’ve been. There was only one good thing, a window, and as Ouma moved his hand over the glass, his hand came back coloured with a musky brown-grey. Ouma could see the house’s run-down yard, as well as the busted-up truck. 

He dumped his clothing on the top of a box, not trusting the cleanness of the bed to put them on. He recognized some of the junk in the boxes, old service badges, dusty books, rusted metal bowls and plates, and then hundreds upon hundreds of office and bank documents, stained with coffee and who-knows-what.

Ouma smiled at the oddness of this situation, trying to cover up his rising fear.

This place was threatening, sure, but there was so much to learn, so many mysteries to solve.

The biggest mystery of all being…

_How to escape._

-

Quiet Boy had led Ouma out to the yard, where they quickly came across a large tree that had fallen. The man (whom Ouma had decided to call Unsalted-Pretzel-Man, or just “the man” because in no way in hell would Ouma ever call him, his father) had a tree that had fallen in a storm recently, and not wanting to pay to get it removed, as well as having free firewood for the approaching winter, he had instructed Ouma that he and Quiet Boy were to chip away at it for the next few weeks. Ouma felt his hands get clammy as he picked up a very rusted axe that was lying nearby. Ouma wasn’t strong, not one bit. He was fast, sure, but even a younger Duke was stronger than him. He was small and had what you’d call: “noodle arms”. It was one of his biggest weaknesses, and also why Ace won every scuffle they’d get into. Besides, having such a heavy sharp weapon in his hands made him feel a touch queasy. It was probably due to _that_ event. He shuddered.

_Now’s not the time to get emotional. Just cut the damn tree._

Ouma brought down the axe as hard as he could on a branch.

...The axe barely made a gash in the wood.

Ouma felt a pair of eyes on him, but as soon as he looked at Quiet Boy, Quiet Boy looked away. Ouma felt a tiny bit better after watching Quiet Boy try with an axe, the boy's movements were stronger than Ouma’s, but clumsy, making about the same weak progress as Ouma. They were on the same page, at least they could silently bond over not being able to chop wood. 

The two hacked away for the whole day, stopping only a few times to get water, plain food, or to go to the bathroom. 

Ouma noted down some odd things during the day, firstly, Quiet Boy always seemed to have a break on a certain schedule. Ouma doubted that the man had set up a schedule of break times, because the entire time, the man looked out the kitchen window as he did his paperwork, and would yell at Ouma if he slacked off, or was taking far too many breaks. Quiet Boy seemed to move on a schedule of his own, after every three hours he’d take a break, on the dot. He placed his axe down always in the same place, the same way. Ouma felt there was something special about the way Quiet Boy did this and didn’t touch or move the axe, and he certainly didn’t ask about Quiet Boy’s odd behaviour. Quiet Boy always seemed to be expressionless too, moving quietly, a bit of sweat dripping from his forehead, but otherwise, his expression was blank and cold. Ouma hoped this wasn’t because Quiet Boy didn’t like him.

Secondly, when it got evening, and they started stacking the branches they’d chopped, Quiet Boy placed them methodically in a neat pile, and would often move the branches that Ouma had put in the pile to make it more secure and tidy. It was a strange pattern, but honestly useful, normally people would be annoyed at having to be wordlessly corrected, but Ouma soon realised that Quiet Boy’s way of piling things meant that things were less likely to fall, and it just looked nicer as well. 

And finally, the strangest thing of all, Quiet Boy had a habit of suddenly stopping, and looked up at the sky. As if he was ready for something to fall from the horizon. 

Their chores also included making dinner and doing the dishes in the filthy kitchen. They made cheese on toast with stale bread. Ouma had tried to talk to the Quiet Boy during dishes, just simple things like: “So did you like dinner…” or, “The sunset is pretty.” But Quiet Boy didn’t even look at Ouma, he kept staring at the sky, face blank as if he was in another world. The only thing which he reacted to is when Ouma tapped him, and he jolted away, so Ouma made a mental note not to touch him.

Besides, Ouma got yelled at once again by the man for getting distracted anyway.

-

Ouma lay awake that night, thoughts running amok from the strange day. His muscles ached from chopping, and his head hurt from stress. He and Quiet Boy were being ordered around like servants, the man had only wanted them to do housework. Ouma was so frazzled that he couldn’t think of any good escape plans, his brain could only come up with sad thoughts, thoughts of his family back at the orphanage. Now it wasn’t only his muscles, it was his chest that ached as well. It was a feeling familiar to _homesickness_. Which was something Ouma hadn’t felt for years and years. The orphanage was a horrid place to be, but this place felt worse. 

He thought about Quiet Boy, and how strange he was. He wasn’t bad, just strange. Honestly, in Ouma’s view, being strange just made him and Quiet Boy more alike. But… the boy was so emotionless, yet Ouma had seen the way his shoulders shook when the man had placed his hand over Quiet Boy’s shoulder when he first arrived.

...If Ouma was to escape, he’d have to take Quiet Boy with him.

First of all, there was the matter of getting back to the orphanage, which first, Ouma had no idea where it was, the truck had gone a long way from it, and it wasn’t like there were any maps here. Even if they got to the orphanage, the man would just take them away again. 

Besides, how could he convince Quiet Boy to come with him if they had no way of communicating?

Ouma groaned to himself, feeling hopeless.

He took the only pillow from behind his head and hugged it tightly. It was babyish, sure, but the bed felt so empty when Duke had been cuddling up to him for the past few weeks. Ouma felt like crying, but he wouldn’t, not now-

_Tap, tap tap!_

Ouma jolted with surprise. That strange tapping noise that had come from Quiet Boy’s room across the hall. Ouma quietly got out of bed and looked out of his room, but there was nothing more. He was curious, but the man’s words were still tugging on the twists of fear in his mind.

**_“Trust me, I see everything that goes on here, any rule-breaking will not be tolerated.”_ **

Ouma shuddered. Getting up and being distracted would be breaking a rule. Ouma hoped that the man’s words were just empty threats, but after being in the orphanage, a place that your actions were constantly monitored by the caretakers, he didn’t want to take any risks at the moment.

So Ouma climbed back into bed, pulling the blankets around himself tight, and desperately hoped that he’d at least get an amount of sleep where he could stand up in the morning.

-

Weeks went by.

They were painfully slow, and every day and every night seemed to be the same. Get up, do chores, get ignored by Quiet Boy, get grumped at by the man, go back to a night of restless sleep. 

Ouma was slowly losing his mind. He hadn’t had a proper conversation with anyone for weeks, the only words he could hear was from the radio occasionally, or from the man yelling at him to not be so slow at chopping. His mind started to get foggier and foggier, plans of escape fading into hopelessness. Ouma was not getting any better with the axe too, his arms seemed to get more skinny and sore day after day. 

Ouma had found something odd though. Even though the day he’d come to the house, it smelt of cigarettes, but he hadn’t seen the man smoke once. 

Quiet Boy still stared at the sky and still made tapping noises at night. Ouma realized that the boy fidgeted a lot too, just not in the way Duke would. For example, Quiet boy would fiddle with his earlobes a lot, or twirl a spoon in amongst his fingers as he dried the dishes.

Ouma overtime got used to Quiet Boys oddities, and now they were more of a comfort to see. It made the situation more human feeling, that this wasn’t just a cold house of dry work and routine, and that there was a real human with him, not just a grumpy man who yelled a lot, and not just the cold night air and Ouma’s sad reflection in soap-studded water.

Quiet Boy would still stare at the sky. Ouma still didn’t know why, until one particular evening.

The two were doing dishes, once again, and that day Quiet Boy had seemed to be staring at the sky more than usual. It was an overcast day, much like the past week, but there had been only brief spittings of rain.

Until that evening.

Suddenly, the sky cracked, and rain came pouring down, making sounds like light gunfire on the roof. 

Ouma felt Quiet Boy tense and automatically assumed the boy was afraid of storms. It was common, a lot of kids in the orphanage would hide under their beds when the thunder started booming. 

But…

When Ouma looked over at the boy, he realised that the boy… wasn’t scared. His face was still neutral, but in his eyes, there was bright excitement and even desperation. The boy had stopped doing dishes entirely, just stared out the window with wide eyes as the rain got so heavy that you could barely see the yard. Quiet Boy finally, finally seemed to notice Ouma then. He looked at Ouma, eyes still bright, and then looked at the door.

_He… he wants to go outside. But why?_

Ouma, ever-so curious, walked away from Quiet Boy, and over to the man at his desk.

As soon as the man saw him coming, he quickly stuffed some papers into his desk drawer, but not before Ouma could see that they looked like very precious bank documents.

“The fuck do you want? Get back to doing dishes.”

Ouma smiled, and making his voice as innocent as he could, he lied and said:

“Oh… due to the rain we saw the pile of branches we made fall over. Could we go out and put them back real quick?”

The man grunted, which Ouma hoped was a yes.

When he came back to Quiet Boy, the boy seemed a little stunned. Still blank-faced, but shock and questions seemed to dance in his eyes about what Ouma had just done. The boy fidgeted with his ears a little before he opened the door and left, beckoning Ouma to follow into the rain.

The pile of branches hadn’t fallen over, but Quiet Boy picked up a soaked branch from the pile anyway, making Ouma confused.

Then Ouma realised what he was doing.

Quiet Boy started drawing on the ground, using the thick mud to draw with the stick, like a pencil.

Sorry for making You come out in the rain, but this is the only way we can talk. 

Ouma was a little stunned, so he didn’t know what to say.

“D-don’t worry about it! I never get cold anyway~!”

Ouma said, shaking from the cold.

Quiet Boy almost took no notice of Ouma’s lie, and he continued to draw in the mud. 

You will get used to this place. But this is the last time we will talk. 

Ouma’s thoughts raced.

“Uh? Sure we can? Just whenever it rains? We could find some way y’know.”

The boy shook his head, continuing to draw.

No. Don't try anything. Also, don’t try and talk to me anymore. I don’t want to risk either of us getting hurt by it. That’s what I’ve been wanting to tell you. 

Ouma felt a bit winded.

_So...this is it?_

“Wait! I’ve been planning a way of escape, I don’t have much, but I’m getting there!”

Another lie. Ouma’s head lately was filled with bleak scrapped ideas.

Quiet Boy then stopped drawing and looked up. He didn’t fully meet Ouma’s eyes, but he slowly shook his head with a stern face.

He wrote down one more sentence.

I am staying here. I hate it here, I do. But there’s nowhere else for me to go anyway. Don’t try to escape, just accept it, I don’t want to face any more punishments, especially if I get in trouble for _you've done_ . 

He then turned away and started walking back to the house before Ouma could collect his thoughts.

“H-hey wait!”

But Ouma was just ignored the whole way back.

When they got in, however, the man was right there waiting. He looked angry, large eyebrows furrowing like twisting caterpillars. 

“It doesn’t take that long to pick up a couple of sticks. What were you _really_ doing?”

Beside him, Ouma felt Quiet Boy stiffen. Ouma just sighed melodramatically.

“We had to chop down some more branches to level the pile. Sorry if it took us longer, but it was for good purposes. You could go out in the rain and see for yourself if you’d like~”

The man just pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Whatever, just go get fucking changed and go to bed.”

Ouma nodded, and he and Quiet Boy slowly made their way up the stairs. Ouma tried to speak again, but as soon as he started, Quiet Boy shot him a look that solidified “don't talk to me anymore”, before he went to his room, and brought the door softly to a close.

Ouma miserably trailed his legs to bed after he’d changed. 

There was no way he could talk to the other boy now, except for when storms came, and even then Quiet Boy would refuse to talk. There was no way of escaping with him. He was stuck here.

_No… I refuse that. I promised everyone I will get back to them._

_I will get out of here with that boy,_ **_no matter what it takes._ **

-

Ouma’s chance came, weeks after the rain incident, on the night upon which Ouma was fidgety. Now, when you’re bored, what do you do? Look for something to entertain yourself with of course. Ouma had turned over every nook and cranny of things in his room, and it was all junk. Old furniture, shoes, a ripped up painting, and a bunch of dusty suitcases. Nothing interesting. He couldn’t go downstairs, he could only lie in bed and look through his window till morning. Ouma never really got a good night’s sleep back in the orphanage, but ever since he got to the house, he would only get a short sleep in which he had stressful nightmares or no rest at all. He would use any spare time on planning or trying to work out Quiet Boy. He groaned as he watched the same flea he had been trying to catch for the past ten minutes leap into a gap in the floor. He had itchy bite marks all down his legs from one tiny insect, Ouma made a mental note to himself that if he ever became ruler of the world, he would eradicate all bugs. Although secretly, he feared bugs, it was a strange phobia that was illogical, and so he hated that one of his main weaknesses came from things that were smaller than his pinkie finger.

_Tap tap tap!_

It was Quiet Boy in his room again. The mysterious tapping noises were killing him slowly, they were annoying, sure, but more than anything else they were _interesting_ . They were the only thing around here that was strange, irregular, mysterious. Because they did not belong in the same loop of get up, work, eat, sleep. The taps came at random hours, often stopping very early in the morning, or just irregularly sounding throughout the entire night, probably only stopping when Quiet Boy went to sleep, and sometimes, like Ouma, that meant never. The taps didn’t have a pattern, they weren’t morse code, so _what?_ Ouma had spent nights over-analysing the tapping noises, that they were now engraved into his mind, gnawing away like a parasite into his brain. And the echoing question that he’d been asking all this time of _what is it?_ Was now louder than it had ever been. 

So tonight, he’d had enough. 

_Screw the rules of not leaving your room. I’ll go insane with curiosity otherwise._

Ouma quietly stepped out of bed, and careful not to step on some of the creakiest floorboards, he silently tiptoed out of his room, past the stairs, past the bathroom, and came to the door of Quiet Boy. This was it, he was going to ever-so-silently open the door and see the thing that had plagued his thoughts. He clutched the doorknob, greedily twisted it and-

_Oh. My. God._

In all his nights of questions and wondering, he had never expected what lay in front of him.

Wires were springing out of a small electricity box, a misshapen potato battery sulked from the corner, a calculator with wires slithering into it, a tiny functioning lamp, things were sparking, things felt _alive._ And there, a shocked Quiet Boy sat, a working, real, old 1990’s computer with a keyboard in front of him. Quiet boy suddenly scuttled back, fear evident on his face. Ouma squeaked and shut the door quietly.

“Look, I’m not going to snitch, or hurt you! This… this is…”

Quiet Boy curled inwards, expecting angriness, or disgust from Ouma, but all he got was a yelp of excitement.

“This is amazing!”

Ouma skipped around the room, marveling at all the zips of electricity and craftwork. He giggled at the potato battery and tapped his fingers on the calculator.

The expression on Quiet Boy’s face was pure _shock_. As Ouma stepped up to him, a big grin on his face, Quiet Boy shifted back to his computer and opened up a document tab.

And he began to type.

Usually, people don’t like my technology. 

Ouma gasped, plopping down on the floor next to him, eyes bright at the computer.

“The computer works!! And you’re talking to me! This is so cool! I’ve never seen a real computer before!”

Quiet Boy seemed to only have his attention on the screen, once again, he wasn’t one for eye contact, but Ouma didn’t mind, the boy seemed to have a bit more of an expression then his usual blank face, there was a spark of passion in those eyes.

This is a 1990s Macintosh SE. I found it in the trash here. It’s taken me a long time to fix it. 

Ouma hummed excitedly.

“How did you learn these skills?”

The boy hesitated before typing again.

I don’t know. Ever since I was a baby I had been interested in technology. My parents were very religious people. After seeing that I had a weird way with technology, my parents thought I was under some demonic curse. They left me at the orphanage. 

Ouma’s face wrinkled into one of displeasure.

”Your parents are idiots. Even if you were cursed, it’s not an evil curse, having the mind of a tech expert is more of a blessing. I’m not religious or anything, but if my child suddenly started showing high talent and skill, my first thought would be that it was something from God, not the devil.”

Haha. I wish they had thought that. 

Ouma looked at him, looked at how glassy his eyes were in the light of the computer screen.

“Do… do you think that you were cursed?”

Quiet Boy seemed to jolt at the question and quickly turned his face away from Ouma. It took him a few minutes before he turned back to the computer, the glassy-eyed look still prevalent on his face.

...Maybe. I do have the capacity to speak. I have functioning vocal cords. But… I’m not good at speaking. I don’t like to. I didn’t talk till I was five years old. I was never socially good either. I’d like to think it was a curse. I don’t like to think that they abandoned me just because I was myself. 

Ouma felt like Quiet Boy at that moment, he felt like he didn’t want to speak. So he softly said:

“Can I type?”

Quiet Boy, eyes flitting from Ouma to the computer, moved to the side, allowing Ouma to type. Ouma took a deep breath and began methodically typing as Quiet Boy did.

**_I’m sorry. I wish I was under a curse too. I wish that bad things happened for an explainable reason, and not just because life is life._ **

Quiet Boy, for a brief moment, made eye contact before flicking his eyes away. The two didn’t say anything, but there was a moment of unspoken connection, an agreement. Ouma shifted his hand off the keyboard, and so it was Quiet Boy’s turn to type.

Why do you lie? You did it the other day in the rain to protect us. My parents always told me lying is bad and evil. Yet you managed to do it so easily, without guilt or remorse. It was disturbing. 

Ouma gave a weak chuckle.

“I don’t want to say why I lie out loud. I… I’m afraid of messing it up if I do.”

Quiet Boy moved aside again, and patted the ground in front of the computer, gesturing that Ouma to stay there. Ouma nodded, although his hands were shaky as he typed.

**_Lying isn’t wrong. Lying is so much more than something you do when you’re naughty. I had a life before the orphanage, one that I can’t quite remember. I was so young when it happened._ **

**_I had a Mother and Father, I don’t remember how they treated me, I don’t even remember their faces. I gave up trying to remember a long time ago. We lived as a middle-class family, but we lived in a lower-class neighborhood. That’s probably why it happened. One day, our house was broken into. Someone had paid a contract-killer to murder my family and me. I remember my mother shoved me into her clothes closet, just as we heard my Father’s final scream of pain in the other room. The killer got into the room where we were, and that’s when I heard her say:_ **

**_“Please spare me. My son went away to go see a relative’s this week. Let me see him again. Please don’t let him see two corpses when he comes home.”_ **

**_Of course, the killer didn’t listen. I heard her scream, then a thud, then the sound of the killer running away. And as I sat, shaking in that closet, I thought about what my mother had said._ **

**_She had lied to protect me. It was the first time I’d ever heard anyone lie. Such a simple choice of words had saved me. Lying wasn’t bad or cruel, it was a lifesaver._ **

**_I will never forget those words or the lesson that she unknowingly taught me._ **

**_I hate killers. They destroy someone’s life, that victim's future, that victim's past, the victims' relationship with their family and friends, it’s disgusting, it’s inhuman. Lies aren’t inhuman, and they’re certainly not worse than murder._ **

Ouma tried to keep his expression blank as he wrote the last sentence, but he felt the tears prick behind his eyes and a lump swelling in his throat. He faked a cough, then choked on the lump in his throat, then coughed for real, tears squeezing out of his eyes as he did so.

“Hahaha… ahem… all that coughing made my eyes watery, augh, gross right?”

He turned to look at Quiet Boy, and what he saw was an expression words could never describe.

His amber eyes were huge, swelling with emotion, sympathy, and gentleness all at once. Suddenly Ouma didn’t feel as ashamed for getting emotional, not when Quiet Boy was like this.

The kindness of Quiet Boy’s eyes reminded him of someone. Well, some people.

“Hey uh…”

Ouma started to talk, but then he suddenly changed his mind and turned back to the computer, typing as quickly, and softly as possible.

**_I have another family now. I don’t know what I’d do without them. Go crazy I guess, I’ve done that a bit here I’ll admit. Your parents sound awful, but… if you ever wanted to try another family, I could introduce you to mine one day, if you’d like. I know you said you had no one waiting for you, and that you wouldn’t survive, but you will. They’ll love what you do with technology, they'll even teach and learn sign language, and they’ll love you, I know they will. Even if not, I’ll stick with you._ **

There was a sniffle, and when Ouma turned to face Quiet Boy again, he almost let out a gasp.

This was the first time since he’d come to this place than he’d ever seen the boy smile. Tears were trailing down the boy’s face, once that almost glowed in the bright light of the computer screen. Ouma let the boy wipe his tears a little before he moved away from the keyboard so that Quiet Boy could take his place.

Thank you. I’d… love to have a family again.

Quiet Boy shuffled back and Ouma sent him a small smile as he typed, sudden excitement thumping in his heart.

**_Then… I’ll come up with a plan. And we can escape from this wretched place. Together._ **

Now Quiet Boy was smiling harder. When Ouma had spoken to him before in the rain, Quiet Boy had claimed that he didn’t want to escape, because he had no one waiting for him. Ouma was glad he could finally get Quiet Boy to see his side. He had convinced him.

They could leave.

Quiet Boy slowly moved to tap his hands across the keyboard once again.

This… gives me a bit of hope. Perhaps there’s a place out there for me after all. Please just be careful with any plans. He doesn’t know what I have here, and I fear what he’ll do if he finds out. 

Ouma giggled, keeping his voice soft.

“I’m very sneaky! The old man won’t know a thing. Your secret is safe with me.”

Quiet Boy’s lips twitched up, and Ouma grinned.

Then let’s escape.

**_Together._ **

-

The next day went on as normal. But… things felt lighter somehow. Ouma and Quiet Boy shared small smiles throughout wood chopping and other such chores. They both seemed to work more in sync, getting work done faster. 

Even throughout dinner and dishes, Quiet Boy would be more playful, more friendly. He’d blow some soap suds at Ouma, or point up at the stars outside.

That night, after they’d finished chores, Ouma started to go up the staircase in higher spirits. He felt like he was going to have a better rest now that things looked bright.

That was until he heard a harsh voice.

“Oi. You two, get back down here. We need to talk.”

Cold fear ran through Ouma. Although he didn’t let it show.

Ouma joined Quiet boy in the man's makeshift office. The man was reading a newspaper, which the top article read:

_The new year of students at Hopes Peak Academy! Class 77-B will begin their student lives soon._

As soon as Ouma stood stiffly beside Quiet Boy, he set the newspaper down. And like before, he put some important looking documents in his desk drawer.

The man, who had seemed calm, suddenly opened his eyes wide and stood up.

“I know what you’ve been up to.”

Ouma’s heart began to race.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about sir…”

The man smiled, a drop of sweat ran down his forehead. He pulled out a camera from the drawer.

“I saw what you were up to last night. The camera that was on top of the cupboard saw the whole thing. Don’t you dare play fucking dumb with me. You broke a rule. No distractions.”

Ouma suddenly clenched the fabric of his clothing in fear, his knuckles turning white. Quiet Boy seemed to be fidgeting with his ear lobes again, breathing heavily.

The man suddenly dipped his hand in the drawer again. And out came a lighter and cigarette. Quiet Boy suddenly stepped back, Ouma could see him shaking in the corner of his eye.

The man saw it too.

“Oi Mute. You should go to your bedroom now. I know you had that computer, but until now, it was a reward for you being good. I hope smashing them to bits was a good enough lesson to learn. _Now leave._ ”

Quiet Boy ran off, tripping as he fell over the stairs, but making it to his room, and slamming the door with a loud _bang!_

Ouma felt like crying. Quiet Boy had loved that computer. He had passion. And just because he hadn’t obeyed this awful man’s stupid rules, that love was gone. And… if that was the punishment for Quiet Boy, then… what would be Ouma’s?

The man lit the cigarette and inhaled and exhaled the musky smoke. Now Ouma knew where the smell had come from.

The man sighed.

“I used to be addicted to these cigarettes you know… now, I just use them for other purposes.”

The man's eyes grew fiery.

_“Now come here.”_

Ouma wanted to run away, he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream. But there was nothing he could do except obey.

This was his biggest mistake.

When Ouma stepped up to the man, the man roughly put his hand around Ouma’s arm. Ouma’s breathing got shaky.

The man was strong.

The man came to eye-level with Ouma. 

“You deserve this. I gave such simple rules, and you couldn’t follow them. Never disobey me again.”

And with that, a horrific burning sensation was placed on Ouma’s neck. Ouma shrieked, trying to rip his arm away from the man, trying to escape the fiery cigarette. But it was useless. The pain came, again and again. Ouma had tried to not show weakness, to lie his way through the pain, but he couldn’t stop screaming, he couldn’t stop crying. 

It was the most painful sensation he’d ever felt.

It must’ve gone on for hours because, by the time the man stopped, it was pitch black. The man let go of Ouma, but Ouma couldn’t even stand properly.

“I still expect to see you doing chores tomorrow. This is the last time you cross me, the next punishment will be even longer.”

Ouma didn’t retort, he just nodded numbly, and started staggering his way up to his room.

He didn’t even get changed, he just lay on his sheets, and wept.

Quiet Boy had been right. If they tried to escape, this is what would be waiting. 

Escape was futile.

-

Ouma didn’t sleep. The burns covering his neck made it impossible to feel comfortable. Every time he even moved or rested his head, the burns would throb and sting, and he’d bit into his raggedy sheets to muffle his scream. 

He got up the next morning, still shaking, but his desperate mind made him move, or he may have to suffer through more if he didn’t get to work. He hadn’t even thought about Quiet Boy. By coming to Quiet Boy’s room, he had got the boy in trouble. Ouma had destroyed the boy’s only joy, and Ouma was sure he would hate him.

Quiet Boy was well, _quiet_ , as they went back to chores. Ouma noticed that the boy seemed to avoid him more now, and stayed well out of his way. The boy had stopped watching the sky and seemed to be only focused on the job. He didn’t fidget, he wasn’t clumsy, he was desperate, just as desperate as Ouma. Ouma felt humiliated, he had giant welling burns on his neck, and in full view for the other boy to see his weakness. 

They had avoided each other, and they both didn’t even go inside for breaktime, neither of them wanted to see the man.

They worked till dusk.

Ouma finally turned to go back inside, until he heard a _crash!_

_Oh._

Quiet Boy had knocked over the pile of branches.

Heart thumping, Ouma ran to fix it, he didn’t want to be punished again, he didn’t want to feel humiliated again, he didn’t want to-

Ouma choked, letting out a sob.

_Is this how Quiet Boy had felt? Is this why he was so unwilling to escape?_

_I should’ve known. Survival means going with the rules._

_I’m-_

_“_ So sorry!”

Ouma cried out. Ouma never really apologised. But if he didn’t now, when would he?

“I’m sorry that I got you into this mess, I should’ve taken your warning, I should’ve I should’ve-”

That’s when Ouma saw Quiet Boy smile. Quiet Boy tilted his head at the branch pile.

And there was the calculator. The man didn’t destroy it. And on the calculator, read numbers. As Ouma carefully built up the pile, he realised the numbers were in an alphabetical code.

9\. 6 15 18 7 9 22 5. 25 15 21 

I F O R G I V E. Y O U.

Ouma looked up at Quiet Boy. And for once, Quiet Boy met his eyes.

Eyes, they could meet each other's eyes. And every eye was filled with tears.

Their lives may be ruined by this man, but through each other, through finding a mutual connection. They found hope.

The hope to escape.

-

Ouma had been planning. He’d been re-planning for an entire week. He had found nothing. Escape seemed impossible. But of course, fate had decided just planning wasn’t good enough, no.

Now, escape had a time limit.

Because one day, Ouma woke up with his burns turning shades of purple and yellow. They were swelling, and they stung like nothing else. His burns were getting infected.

He had a fever too.

Ouma had dragged his way through chores that day, his mind racing, getting concerned looks from Quiet Boy. He didn’t have much longer before the fever overcame him and he was unable to work. He could die without medical attention in the next day or two.

_So what? What can I do? This man has torn me down, and given me an almost death sentence, weakness, a hindrance, a-_

_Oh._

_Of course._

Ouma was so focused on escape, he hadn’t thought much about what the man had been up to.

The man had injured Ouma, giving him a weakness. 

But Ouma may have found the biggest weakness of the man that way.

-

That evening, Ouma informed Quiet Boy of the plan.

And that same evening, Ouma smashed a plate.

“Oops!” 

The man yelled at him.

“BETTER CLEAN THAT UP. OR ELSE.”

Ouma giggled, beads of sweat going down his forehead.

_Damn fever._

Ouma looked at Quiet Boy, and Quiet Boy gave him a single nod.

Then Ouma smashed another plate.

“Oops again!”

“WH-”

And another.

Ouma had no time to grab another as the man yanked Ouma’s arm and dragged him over to the desk.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing boy. But you’re going to regret it. Hey Mute, you’re coming over here too.”

Even though everything was going perfectly, Ouma was still terrified. He could feel himself shaking.

But he had to trust Quiet Boy. He would escape. He would see his family.

So as soon as the man opened his drawer, Ouma yelled.

“Now!”

And as quick as a flash, Quiet Boy snatched up the documents that the man always had put in there.

At the same time, Ouma snatched the lighter that the man had fished out.

Ouma then bit down hard on the man's arm, the man screamed, and Ouma tasted blood.

The bite gave Quiet Boy the time to have a few steps back, and as soon as he got far enough away, Ouma chucked him the lighter as well.

The man’s eyes, that were so full of fury, suddenly turned to those of fear.

Quiet Boy held the documents in his left hand, and with his right, he held the lighter.

As soon as he’d seen the man’s expression turn, Ouma knew that they had won.

“Would you be so kind as to let me go? Or my friend here might just burn your entire future~”

Ouma felt the man’s hand tremble before Ouma was released. Ouma stood next to Quiet Boy, a small smile on his face.

The man, looking angry, yet helpless, huffed.

“What the fuck do you two want from me.”

Was all he said.

Ouma grinned, delight glowing on his face.

“Freedom.”

So they made a deal. Ouma would be useless soon, as he was unwell from the infection, he would succumb to fever without medical help. The man would already agree to let him go, but Ouma didn’t want that. He wanted Quiet Boy gone too. The two would hand back the man's papers after they had got to the orphanage. The man would sign them back in, and in exchange, he would get back his papers, and Ouma wouldn’t snitch on how he got sick. Ouma also bargained that the man would no longer take anyone from the orphanage because if he did...

**Ouma would come back and burn everything to the ground.**

_Lying truly is a lifesaver._

-

The truck ride back was bumpy, yet Ouma had never felt more at ease. He lay in the back of the truck, Quiet Boy at his shoulder. Ouma was very, very tired. His infection felt awful, it stung and he could feel it oozing. But he wasn’t ready to fall asleep yet, he wasn’t back to his family.

But, he had a bit of his family with him already. Ouma smiled and spoke.

“Hey… you don’t have a name, do you? Do you… want a new one?”

-

Kokichi gasped as the memory ended. It was… certainly a rollercoaster. Ouma rubbed his head, trying not to think about the screams from his earlier self. He could still hear them echo. He felt Saihara’s presence before he saw him, he could almost feel the concern radiating from the other boy.

“Ouma are you?-”

“I’m fine~”

Ouma breathed out a huffy laugh.

Saihara frowned.

“You’re not- Ah! Ouma look!”

And there he was. 

The Mute.

The Quiet Boy.

_Spades._

A loop of a boy, typing away on a keyboard grinning. There was a monitor behind him that’s screen lit up into fireworks every time the boy hit a certain key.

Relief and gratitude rolled sparked through Ouma. 

Spades… he and Kokichi were survivors. They always had a special connection afterward, a brotherhood that spawned from an unfortunate place, but had grown into something stronger than the place that imprisoned them.

Kokichi’s heart suddenly swelled with realisation.

_His neck._

He quickly grabbed hold of the place he knew he had been burned. It didn’t hurt, but… that’s probably because it was a long time ago.

_Is it… is it scarred?_

He knew it was under his scarf, but he couldn’t take it off. Not here, not in front of Saihara and whoever else was watching. It would be awful, he’d be exposing his weakness for everyone to see.

“Ouma… hey. Ouma. Ouma?”

It seemed Saihara had been talking for a while. Kokichi hadn’t even realised. A face full of golden eyes and concern suddenly appeared in front of him. Kokichi felt frozen with fear, he just clung to his own neck, heart racing.

_Please don’t ask, please don’t ask to see._

A warm hand found Kokichi’s shoulder instead.

“Ouma. I won’t look, and Komaeda says won’t either, he’ll only look at the monitor if you yell for us, okay? Take your time.”

Kokichi could only nod, his face feeling warm. Saihara smiled kindly and turned away.

After a few moments of making sure Saihara really couldn’t see, Kokichi stiffly removed his hand. Removed his scarf.

He wished he could remove his grief.

Infection scars last a long time. 

There were brown marks all across a side of his neck, small hole-like scars littered his pale skin, forever showing a blemish of past horrors and weakness.

Kokichi couldn’t stop the silent tears from falling.

Saihara didn’t turn around, but Kokichi suddenly heard him speak.

“I have a burn scar too. On my shoulder. I wish I could show you.”

_Huh?_

Saihara continued talking. 

“It won’t show up on me. I can’t show you. But… you’ll see it eventually.”

Kokichi wiped away his tears, frustration, and confusion burning in his chest.

“What. What do you mean they won’t show up? Are you just lying to me make me feel better Saihara? I don’t need your pi-”

“Ouma. Can I turn back around?”

Kokichi quickly wrapped his checkered scarf back on and gave a hesitant yes.

Saihara turned back around, and instant guilt hit Kokichi. Saihara was crying too. Kokichi opened his mouth to speak, but Saihara bet him to it.

“I’m sorry. I truly am. I can’t show you these scars because my avatar won’t have them. I can’t give you that comfort. I got those burns… during an awful time. The program we were in prevented any memories of that time, even erasing scars. Yours still show up because they were from before that time.”

Kokichi’s eyes flitted up and down Saihara, searching for a lie.

There was none.

Kokichi gritted his teeth and swallowed back a lump of emotion.

“Saihara… what time are you talking about?”

Saihara’s eyes flickered with sadness, fear, and… despair. His voice shook.

“This time… this awful, despairful time was called… **The Tragedy.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can see how it's rushed huh. I didn't even really edit. I just said I'd have it done by now so I rushed it iufhweojnweslgk
> 
> Chapter title is from: The Mute by Radical Face
> 
> Once again, here is the discord link! Keep in mind I am finishing writing this at 11 PM, so I wont be around for a good few hours cause im gonna pass out right after, sorry for those who have newly joined!! https://discord.gg/sHWGBEs


	12. Chapter Twelve: I'm in love with the goddess who lives down the street I've got clouds on my agenda and a spring in my feet~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi learns of a secret that Saihara holds, and discovers more of his past as he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI IM SO SORRY THIS WAS SO LATE JHUGIERUKGHEROUGHJOERIUHJ
> 
> IVE HAD A FUCK TON OF LIFE STUFF GOING ON AND IM RLY NERVOUS ABOUT THIS CHAPTER CAUSE I FEEL LIKE IT WASNT VERY GOOD, AND I HARDLY EDITED IT, SO BE PREPARED FOR WEIRD GRAMMAR MISTAKES.
> 
> Really though, my life has been a hot mess, and thank you to all of you who comment and send love. It really makes my day, and I read every individual comment, and I have actually looked through the accounts of everyone that has bookmarked this fic. That sounds creepy, but I had honest intentions just to find other good fics from people who support me.
> 
> Luckily, summer break is coming soon, so I might have more time to post chapters quicker!! Hooray!! 
> 
> Really though, thank you for taking time to read this.
> 
> (Also this fic has a discord server now!! Come over and join at: https://discord.gg/sHWGBEs)
> 
> TW FOR: transphobia, mentions of a car crash

_ The Tragedy. _

Kokichi suddenly felt very, very anxious. Saihara looking scared too wasn’t helping, his pretty golden eyes flickering around the room, starting to look agitated.

Saihara took a shuddering breath.

“Ouma are you sure you want to know-”

Kokichi just nodded, keeping his face neutral, although his heart was thumping all over the place as though a tiny wild animal lived in his chest.

Saihara eyebrows knotted together and his voice was quiet as he requested permission from Komaeda, asking if he could tell Kokichi. Komaeda must’ve said yes because Saihara then started to look paler.

Saihara took a seat on the ground, Kokichi following suit. Saihara then knotted his hands together and shakily explained.

“The tragedy started with a school known as Hopes Peak High. A prestigious school, that recruited only the best of the best. The students had a prodigy level for their own individual talents, also known as ‘Ultimates’. The school ended up recruiting  ** Junko Enoshima ** , who back then was known as the ‘Ultimate Fashionista’. But in reality, her true title was the ‘Ultimate Despair’.

_ Junko Enoshima. _

The name echoed through his head, making a chill go down his spine. 

Kokichi noticed Saihara’s voice was getting shaky and shallow. He gulped, suddenly feeling guilty. 

“Saihara you don’t have to-”

Saihara shook his head, fiddling with his collar and breathing in and out, murmuring something quietly to himself. 

“No...no it’s okay. I just… wasn’t prepared to do this again.”

_ Again? _

Saihara shook his head for the second time as if to snap himself out of his apprehension, taking another breath before launching into another explanation.

"J-Junko brainwashed a class of Ultimate students, turning them into Ultimate Despairs. They began the Tragedy, a catastrophic event that led to three years of mass destruction, death, and despair. Some worshiped her, causing mass murder and other horrific crimes in her name, and some fought back in the name of humanity and hope, but either way, it all seemed to be a losing battle to despair. Until Junko, wishing to plummet the world into the absolute destruction of all hope, forced the only remaining students of Hopes Peak that weren’t dead or full of despair into a killing game. Out of the sixteen students, only six survived, among them was Makoto Naegi, who earned the title of the ‘Ultimate Hope’ by ending Junko Enoshima. This is when the tragedy started turning, hope seemed to be on the distant horizon past the wreckage of what was left.”

Kokichi giggled in spite of it all. 

“Jeez~ what a wreck huh? No wonder you didn’t want to tell me. Makoto Naegi huh? He sounds like some dumb shonen protagonist, probably believing in the ‘magic of friendship~’ or some shit.”

Kokichi tried to ignore the way his heart felt like it had leaped to his throat.

_ So whatever is out there… is the apocalypse.  _

“O-Ouma should I continue?”

Kokichi waved him on.

“Of course Shumai! This world is looking out to be very fun indeed!”

_ I’m a pretty pathetic liar huh. _

Saihara continued with his grim tale.

“The Ultimate Hope joined up with the Future Foundation, a resistance full of ex-ultimates. But he betrayed them, by refusing to kill The Ultimate Despairs. Instead, he put them into a virtual program, designed to bring back their hope. Unfortunately, this program was hijacked, turning the program into virtual a killing game instead. Luckily, everyone made it out alive. Makoto then had to stand trial by the future foundation, and another killing game started. The survivors of the first killing game and the leader of the future foundation were the only ones left alive. To save the world from further despair, the ex-remnants took the blame for future foundation deaths. And since then, the world is slowly beginning to recover from The Tragedy, and about a year and a half ago, Makoto has re-built a new Hope’s Peak, this one under his leadership.”

Saihara took a deep breath, it was a lot of information to download.

Kokichi only had one word to say about this all.

“Yikies~!”

Saihara just grimly nodded.

_ This is a bit of a fucky-wucky situation. So… does that mean the ex-remnants still exist? It doesn’t explain where and who I am now. Honestly, I’m starting to care less about where I am, because wherever isn’t here, is probably going to be a flaming dump of shit. But still. _

Kokichi made his voice as serenely-sweet as possible.

“Saihara, something still doesn’t add up here! How am I involved in all of this? I mean, obviously, I’m in a virtual place, does this mean I’m a killer or remnant of what-ever or something? What aren’t you telling me huh?”

Saihara’s face suddenly got red, he waved his hands about, panicked.

“No-no! You’re not a remnant! Promise! And I… I don’t know if I should tell you about why you’re here, I-I’m really sorry, but I just can’t, it’s too much and I-”

“Jeeeeez~ It’s totally fine.”

Saihara went wide-eyed at Kokichi’s nonchalant tone.

“Huh? You sure?”

Kokichi nodded, expression neutral.

“Saihara, I can see you’re not lying about anything… so far. Really who cares, I’m going to find out sooner or later, and right now I’d rather it be later, as this much information is already making my head spin.”

Saihara smiled, but his eyes soon started to get blank and cloudy again, as though he was lost in thought. His smile turned into an odd expression as he spoke again, this time, his words slow, hesitant, and carefully thought out.

“Ouma… I… the tragedy was truly awful, and I wish it never happened, and I know you don’t remember… but...  ** the tragedy is also when I met you for the first time. ** ”

Kokichi felt like he’d been slapped cold in the face.

“We… we met during the tragedy?”

Saihara nodded, not reaching Kokichi’s eyes.

“Yeah… very briefly. To try to prove my worth as a detective in the tragedy, I privately worked on a case that involved tracking you, and... eventually found you. I met you very briefly, but... I don't think I'll ever forget it. But after that, I closed the case, I didn’t tell anyone about it, and I picked up the next.”

Kokichi’s heart fluttered, excitement and mystery bouncing into his head.

“Why’d you close the case?”

Saihara blinked.

“I don’t… exactly know. But, I know I made the right call.”

Kokichi grinned, his heart feeling a bit lighter. 

Saihara grinned back, but the emotion behind his eyes still looked unsteady. He had more to say it seemed, and Kokichi wanted to hear it.

“Saihara… that’s not all is it?”

Saihara brought his palm up to his mouth, his nervous eyes locked onto the floor. After a few moments, he seemed to find the courage to speak, his voice breathless and shaky.

“We… we met again. Makoto Naegi… that school, the new Hope’s Peak for Ultimates… we were both in the first-ever class. S-Since we had met before I… you… y-you knew… I-”

Before he could say anymore, Kokichi grabbed Saihara’s hand with a concerned smile.

“Oookay detective~! This isn’t one of your interrogations, just cool it, you can tell me some other time okay?”

Saihara’s golden eyes were still anxious, yet strong emotion also shone through. His voice was still shaky, but it held more weight.

“Ouma… I want to tell you. I… It just feels weird having to do it a second time. Especially when… you don’t quite remember.”

Kokichi tilted his head like a confused puppy at his words, but truly Saihara looked torn with telling him. Until suddenly, Saihara’s eyes lit up. He suddenly gave Ouma’s hand a delighted squeeze, his eyes bright and excited.

“Ouma! That’s it! Remember! When I told you the first time, you told me about a member from DICE! You said she was the same! Fuck, how could I forget? That story really helped me, back… back then.”

Saihara then realized he was still holding onto Kokichi’s hand, and he dropped it, his cheeks pink, grin a bit guilty.

Kokichi, a bit frazzled by all of this, yet his mood lifted by the excited Saihara, jumped to his feet, feeling dizzy as he did so.

“Well, well! I better go remember that member then! I want to know who Shumai admires more than me~!”

Saihara chuckled bashfully and stood up as well, following Kokichi slowly as Kokichi skipped over to the masks.

It was stupid how Kokichi could go from being terrified about the apocalyptic world waiting for him, to being curious and excited over something Saihara said. 

_ Seriously Saihara, you may be a dork, but you make me feel stupid things.  _

Now thanks to Saihara, Kokichi knew a few more things. 

Kokichi was a student of the new Hope’s Peak Academy.

Saihara and his past self had met during The Tragedy during one of Saihara’s private investigations, but Saihara stopped investigating him, hopefully for good reasons.

Last of all, Saihara trusted him enough to reveal his secret once before, and even if it was hard, he was willing to tell Kokichi again.

Kokichi smiled at Saihara as they came up to the next mask, one with cross-eyes and purple-pink lips, lips bigger than all of the other masks. 

And as Kokichi touched the mask, and let the pixels fizzle all around them, his thoughts suddenly turned to those of doubt and guilt.

_ Am I a person who deserves Saihara’s trust? _

-

Young Ouma found there were very few benefits from lying in bed, probably dying from a burn infection all day. 

Sure, he didn’t have to go to any classes, and his friends would deliver food to him, but there was very little to do when you’re lying in bed and sweating profusely from fever and trying to do anything to keep yourself from scratching at the bandages around your neck.

Ouma could still remember the day, a month before, when he’d gotten back to the orphanage with Spades. 

Ace had fussed over him  ** a lot ** . Coincidentally, she had spent all her time while he was gone reading medical books, how to do first-aid, and things like that. So she had given him a right talking-to as she applied gauge to his infected burns, telling him not to be such an idiot as she sobbed with relief. 

Since then, Ace, Clubs, and Duke had been getting Spades adjusted to the orphanage again. Ace had taken over as a leader figure while Ouma was suffering away, and she had been doing great, although she was a little fiery at times. Duke and Spades seemed to be getting on very well in particular, Duke had been excitedly teaching Spades morse code, and the two seemed to spend every moment clicking and tapping, gossiping about whatever and whoever was around the sunken orphanage halls. 

Clubs seemed to be doing good. He was very kind towards Spades, but when he’d first met him, he’d wrapped him up in a strong hug, and Spades immediately got a little shaky, so Clubs apologized for the rest of the day, not knowing Spades couldn’t quite take physical contact or affection. But they were fine now, Clubs had worked together with him to bribe other orphans into swapping beds so that they could be in beds closer to Ouma. Clubs had told him that Duke had really cuddled up to him every night when Ouma was gone, and he still did now, squeezed up next to the giant teddy-bear that was Clubs on the bed next to Ouma’s every night.

Being trapped in bed every day was torture for Ouma. Luckily his fever had gone down, and Ace reassured him that it seemed that he’d make a good recovery, but his burns would scar permanently, and would, unfortunately, act up with pain for years to come. This information made Ouma fearful, as he would be walking around with the biggest target right on his neck, just saying: “Look at me! I was injured! I’m weak! I’m so pathetic that I couldn’t stop all these burns! Come and attack me!” 

Unhealthy thoughts spun their webs through Ouma’s head during his bed-ridden state. He was insecure, constantly questioning himself, exhausted, even if he’d slept the whole day, and he’d have these awful nightmares of that house, and when he would wake, his scars would blaze as if the cigarettes were touching him all over again. But what was worst of all, was Ouma’s paranoia. 

Ouma had spent so much time unable to move, that he could do nothing more but  _ think _ . Nothing to do except to make future plans and feel scared. He would spend hours listening to everyone’s conversations and would spy around for any cameras, asking Clubs to check for him, just in case, the matrons were watching just as the man in the house had. They hadn't found any... yet.

All these hours of paranoia and overthinking had come down to one thing.

_ The footsteps. _

Ouma had a restless sleep every night, so he would hear and know everything that happened after the lights went out. And there was a pattern. Every night, after everyone was snoring away inside the boy’s sleeping area, Ouma would hear someone creep out of bed, and slip away. Now, this would be normal, maybe a boy wanted to go to the bathroom or something, but it’s very  _ unusual _ for someone to be going to the bathroom, for around an hour, when everyone is asleep.

Ouma’s racing paranoia had narrowed it down to one possible thing.

There were no cameras as far as he had seen, so there would have to be a  _ spy _ . 

Perhaps this stranger, under the cover of darkness snuck away and spread information?

Ouma, after a month of hearing those footsteps and being cooped up in bed, decided he was well enough to walk. Well enough to follow this boy, whoever he was, and find out what he had been doing. He didn’t want to tell his friends. Ace would fuss and say he wasn’t well enough to walk, and Clubs would squeeze him to death and tell him he’s worrying too much. Ouma would probably just… worry them. It was illogical for him to cause worry throughout his group just due to a ‘suspicion’. Besides, they had all been helping him to make a recovery, they had done enough for him lately. He would be okay alone… right?

Right.

And now, it is time for Ouma’s plan. The lights have been off for a good hour, and gentle, rumbling snoring and sleepy sighs of the other boys now filled the darkroom. Now all Ouma had to do is sit and wait for the footsteps. 

Ouma sighed as he felt the need to once-again, itch his wound. It was funny, even though it had happened a month ago, the wound would still feel like it was on fire. Relief came with water dabbed on his burns, and whatever the hell Ace was putting on it. It would flare up especially awfully after nightmares, or fear, or if he touched it or rolled over in his sleep. He was just glad that Ace said that he could wear a shirt again now that it was beginning to heal, meaning that by wearing a loose turtleneck that Club's owned, he could hide his injury. Ouma hated the feeling of being exposed, so he’d spent his weeks hiding under his bedsheets, not letting anyone see him. But now, he was ready again, ready to track down the spy-

Ouma suddenly heard the footsteps.

The footsteps were always delicate and light, but that just gave Ouma more reason to believe that this person had something to hide. As soon as he heard the pitter-patter of the footsteps leave the room, he quickly leaped out of his bed, ready to not be so weak and useless and-

He immediately fell of course.

Luckily, Ouma was light, and he’d fallen onto his side, so he didn’t make much noise. He hissed through his teeth at the pain that had shot through his shoulder, but he swiftly assessed it wasn’t broken, but he wouldn’t be surprised if a welting bruise would show up there the next day. Ouma let out a small whine as his legs shook, and he held onto his bed for support. If he needed to go to the bathroom or something in the past while being in this state, Clubs would usually pick him up and take him. Now he felt like a baby fawn, trying to stand up on shaky little legs for the first time. 

Eventually, he got the hang of walking again, and even if he constantly needed the wall for support, the hunt for the shady stranger was on. The footsteps were very soft now, and Ouma had to clamber around like a drunk man, hanging onto the walls to catch up. Ouma grinned a little as he recognized the footsteps going to the main room, the same one with the broken lamp all those years ago. The matrons went into the room all the time, so the person must be giving information, he was right all along-!

_ Wait. ...What? _

The footsteps had suddenly veered in another direction, the one with… the cupboard Ouma had been shut in a lot of times. The one with the moonlit window. 

Then the footsteps stopped. There were no other footsteps, no matrons walking into that hallway. 

Was the stranger really a spy?

Ouma, as silent as a cat, crept near the opening of the hallway. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see a tall, shadowed boy, quietly dipping low to the ground, and ripping out a loose floorboard. 

Ouma briefly wondered if the stranger was smuggling in drugs. 

But then the boy rummaged around, got what he needed, and stood up, moving towards the window.

The moonlight hit the stranger, revealing his identity. Ouma recognized him immediately, his thoughts only coming to a small  _ oh. _

This boy was the lesser-known twin of the only identical twins at the orphanage. His brother was very charismatic, popular, and funny, dazzling even the matrons. This twin… not so much. It wasn’t like he was shy, he could crack a joke, he was friendly, but he was so… distant, he didn’t have many friends. He had a reputation of annoying the matrons because he refused to cut his hair, making him easily recognizable from his brother, as his hair was the one of the longest out of all the boys, just reaching his shoulders in a neat, stylish bob-cut. No one had tried to get close to him, but everyone loved to gossip about him, an outsider. So what was he doing here?

The Second Twin sat down near the moon-lit window and pulled out a hairbrush, as well as a small mirror. He began to carefully brush and smooth out his hair, humming as he did so. Then, raising the mirror to his face, he pulled out a small box, one that looked dusty and cracked. Inside the box, he pulled out a soft brush, and then dipped it into the box, fluffing what seemed to be a powder on his face. 

Ouma blinked. 

_ Is that… makeup? _

Ouma could tell that the Second Twin was now smiling as he applied lipstick, a gentle twinkle in his eye. Next was blush, the Second Twin giggling as he powdered it on, then eyeshadow, and eyeliner. The makeup formula looked like cheap crap, but the way it glittered upon the twin’s face made him look beautiful, even ethereal in the silver light. Ouma thought it was strange, yet he’d never seen him smile before. He placed the mirror on the ground, and did a delighted little jump and twirl, humming in a high-pitched tone as he did so. 

He then settled, sitting down and staring out the window at the starlit sky, pale pink eyes sparkling with joy, an emotion that Ouma had never seen on the Second Twin’s face. The scene was lovely, but soon guilt sprung through Ouma, as he realized he was intruding on something that was a private pocket of secret happiness for someone else.

He smiled and decided to leave, his legs wouldn’t hold him up for much longer anyway.

But as started walking back to the sleeping area, a floorboard beneath his foot let out a loud:

**_ ssssqqqueeeeeaaaaakkk _ **

And Ouma, even though young, could not help the language of the next thought that rang through his brain.

_ If God exists, surely he gets pleasure from fucking me over in life. _

And as God would have it, a few seconds later, a frightened voice rang out:

“H-hello? Show yourself right now!”

Ouma considered running, but from the way his legs ached, he knew he was only going to get about two meters before he would fall flat on his face.

So stifling a groan, he shifted out of the shadows, coming face-to-face with the wild-eyed Second Twin. The Second Twin looked at Ouma in shock and fury, yet he couldn’t hide the fear that was thrumming in his light eyes. As soon as he heard the creaky floorboard he must’ve desperately tried to wipe off his makeup, as lipstick was smudged around his chin, and staining his sleeve. Ouma let out a small cough, hearing his heart roaring in his ears. 

The Second Twin’s voice was writhe and sounded like a hiss as he spoke.

“What is your fucking name. Now.”

Ouma’s voice came out more croaky and pitiful than he expected.

“Ouma… Kokichi. Look I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut it.”

Much to Ouma’s horror, the Second Twin grabbed Ouma by the scruff of his clothes, his voice still angry, yet he spoke fast, making it obvious he was panicking, and as well as that, his grip was shaky.

“I don’t care why you’re here. I don’t fucking care. But if you tell anyone about what you saw… I’ll… I'll... “

His face suddenly crumpled, and he let go of Ouma, letting Ouma stumble, trying to stand upright on trembling legs.

The Second Twin just sighed, and turned away from Ouma, staring out at the stars again.

“I don’t… I don’t care anymore. J-just go. There’s nothing I can do.”

Ouma couldn’t find his voice, so he just nodded, and stumbled away, his mind racing with a million thoughts. 

But…

As Ouma made his way out of the hallway and down the corner, he stopped. He turned around, and he looked back at the mysterious stargazer. 

The Second Twin was so… scared. But why? Harassment. It was probably the fear of harassment. If word got out that a boy was wearing makeup and acting feminine and what-not, he would be bullied and eventually sent off for adoption. Ouma often had the urge to do more feminine things, such as taking ages on his hair to make it look stylized, but he’d be a laughingstock. Had… Ouma now made the Second Twin as paranoid as he was? Ouma was constantly terrified that his secrets would be found out, and now he carried the power to completely destroy someone’s life. If the roles had been reversed… Ouma shuddered if someone had control over him in that way, he’d probably go crazy. 

This… wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair to walk away and let this person be frightened constantly, just because Ouma stumbled in on something that wasn’t meant for him to see.

So Ouma turned his weak legs back around. 

And Ouma walked shakily back into the moonlight hall.

As he did, he caught the Second Twin’s eyes, they were watery and frightened, yet they glimmered, holding the whole galaxy in them.

The Second Twin started to tremble again, and his voice came out rough and full of emotion.

“I said for you to go-”

“Y’know, I like looking at the stars too.”

Ouma had a small, nervous smile planted on his face as the other boy stared at him, shocked.

“Wh-? What do you mean?”

“What I  _ mean _ is that the sky is so clear tonight, and it would be a shame to look at it alone, dontcha think?”

The Second Twin wiped his teary eyes, before pinching the bridge between his nose.

“Why… why the fuck do you want to stargaze with me?”

Ouma’s face molded into a weary grin.

“Let me stargaze with you, and I promise I won’t ever tell anyone about what I saw. If I do, you have full permission to snitch on me.”

“Snitch on you for what?”

Ouma smirked, carefully picking up a piece of splintered wood from the ground, then wandering over to the cupboard doors. He then scratched into the door a very… interesting message.

** Nurse R has a fungal toe disease. She’s spreading it to everyone!  **

The funny thing is, there were at least eight matrons and nurses starting with the letter R. 

The Second Twin laughed, and all the tension in the air fell away. 

“You have a deal.”

The Second Twin patted the spot next to him, and Ouma sighed with relief and smiled, feeling his legs ache in gratitude to be sitting down and resting.

The two sat and watched the stars, and the light clouds trail past. The sky really was beautiful, it was a full moon, planting silver on everything the light touched. The stars twinkled and glimmered so bright, it was almost as if there were a million different lit-up houses floating in the sky. The night wasn’t just black and white, it was a rainbow of rich dark and light colors.

Surprisingly, it was the Second Twin who broke the silence.

“What do you like about them? The stars I mean.”

Ouma gave a tired sigh before responding.

“After being shut up in the cupboard so many times as a punishment, when I come out and the first thing I see are stars, it tends to be a breath of fresh air after being in that rotten place.”

There was a dry chuckle.

“I can tell you don’t like the matrons.”

Ouma grinned wickedly.

“Not. One. Bit.”

“Well then, we seem to have something in common.”

Came the elegant reply.

Still gazing at the stars, Ouma spoke up this time, his voice sincere, yet curious.

“Why… Why do you hide here to put on makeup? I mean, I get it, often I want to spend hours brushing my hair a certain way, but I know the other kids would tease me for it. I’m not judging. But I mean… why? Why do you use makeup? Usually, you’d use it to beautify yourself or whatever to impress others, but… I’ve never seen you wear any until now.”

There was a pause, and then a shaky sigh from The Second Twin.

“I… I don’t wear it to impress others. I wear it because…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ouma watched as a wistful smile grew on the other's face.

“It makes me feel more… like myself.”

There was more silence, the gears in Ouma’s head were turning, trying to figure out what that meant. He couldn’t. He let out a small groan.

“Okay, this is hard. I don’t get it.”

The Second Twin giggled before his face fell into one of anxiety, and he twiddled his thumbs, before addressing Ouma once again.

“I’ll tell you. If you promise not to scream at me or run away because no matter what you do, you can’t change what I feel. And if you tell anyone, I’ll break something and blame it on you, and watch scream and starve as you die alone on the streets.”

Ouma gulped.

“Fair. I promise.”

The Second Twin let out a breath, and then carefully stood up, retrieving something from the gap in the floorboard. When he returned, Ouma saw it was a dusty book, with the words: 'Understanding the Minority of Those Who Identify in The Rainbow Community' printed neatly on the cover.

The Second Twin opened the book up, and with an almost affectionate expression, started flipping through pages.

“This is the most important item I own. It’s the thing that keeps me tethered to my identity, it helps not succumb to those who call me crazy. It’s how I know that it’s okay to be myself.”

Something about the way he had said that, ruminated in Ouma’s heart. He felt warm, as he remembered Ace, Clubs, Duke and Spades, and how they had been taking care of him.

“I get that. I’ve finally found people who are like me. They might be a bit mad, but they keep me from slipping off the edge.”

The Second Twin paused. His hands shook as he kept turning over pages. His voice got emotional and croaky, as though he was holding tears back.

“That… that must be really nice.”

Finally, taking a deep breath out, the Second Twin pointed to a circled paragraph in one of the only pages that weren’t dusty.

It read:

‘This section covers the small population of those who are  ** Transgender ** . As an introduction, what does transgender mean? "Transgender" is an umbrella term that describes people whose gender identity or expression does not match the sex they were assigned at birth. For example, a transgender person may identify as a woman despite having been born with male genitalia.’

_ Huh. _

Ouma was a little embarrassed that he’d never heard of this proper term before. Maybe he had heard some slurs thrown around by other kids relating to it, but he had never known what it meant. So… the Second Twin was…

“Are you…? Transgender?”

The Second Twin nodded, face going red, and eyes welling up with tears.

Ouma blinked, processing. He needed more information, this all was new to him.

“What’s that like…?”

The Second Twin wiped tears out of their eyes, taking a moment to sniffle before addressing Ouma again. 

“It’s like… looking in the mirror and knowing something was wrong. Ever since I was little, I could feel something was wrong, and I never knew what. It made me upset, lost, scared. Once when I was little, I was teased that I was like a: 'little princess’ it was supposed to be an insult, but thinking of those words made me feel… h-happy. Warm. Being as young as I was, I stupidly thought that liking being called that, made me secretly a princess or something. But as I grew older, I realized that the warm feeling I had was because someone had identified me as a girl. This led me into being more confused, as I was born a boy, so why was I feeling like this? Until one day, after searching around some discarded books from a library, I found this book, and curiously, I flicked through it, and there it was. My identity.”

Ouma couldn’t help but feel ineffable, trying not to let free the emotions that were swelling in his chest.

The Second Twin didn’t even notice, they continued their passionate ramble as if this was the first time they could ever speak openly about it, they were trying to explain themselves, shaking and rambling… almost as if they were trying to justify their identity and existence to Ouma, for just being alive. 

“I… I took the book home. I learned so much, and in doing so I felt so happy learning that I’m not alone, that there are others like me. H-here in Japan, no one ever talks about it, homosexuality, gender identity… all of that. I mean, people have a basic understanding I guess. From… the insulting words I’ve heard thrown around. But I know I’m a girl. Putting on makeup and finding time to be me, makes me happy. Sure, it’s just an expression, boys can wear makeup and dresses, and like pink but-”

Ouma’s breath caught.

“Boys can do that?!”

The Second Twin nodded, and Ouma’s eyes sparkled. Thinking about it… Ouma knew he was a boy as much as the Second Twin knew they were a girl. But Ouma still often would like to wear more ‘girly’ things, after all, clothes were just a rag of cloth, makeup was just powder, they don’t represent your entire gender and identity. Having someone confirm that it was okay, made Ouma feel a bit more confident. He had always felt weird because he tended to like feminine things. It didn’t make him a girl… he just liked them.

The Second Twin was silent, nervously fidgeting. When they spoke up again, their voice was soft and warbling.

“Do you think that I’m crazy? The world does. I think I am. Every day I wonder if what I’m feeling is true or if I’m just going insane. But every day I feel as though I know I’m a girl. I feel sad when I look in the mirror because I wasn’t born with the right body. I feel happy when I’m here and I get to be myself. Maybe that’s how I know I’m not going insane. I know you probably don’t believe me. But I’m telling the truth.”

Ouma came to the conclusion that she was telling the truth. She wasn’t crazy, because she wasn’t lying. True feelings are never a lie, the truth of what you feel is inevitable, no matter how much you may want it to be.

Ouma softly placed a hand on her arm. 

“I believe you. I may not know you well, but it doesn’t take a genius to know when someone’s telling the truth. You’re a girl.”

And with that, the girl, ethereal in the moonlight, eyes wide and shining, let out a sob.

Ouma had never seen anyone cry as the Second Twin did then. She was sobbing, yet there was a huge grin on her face, a faint blush on her cheeks, and unlike before, she wasn’t wiping away her tears. She had nothing to hide now. The look on her face… Ouma couldn’t have any other words to describe it other than pure relief.

Ouma felt a little awkward sitting there as she cried, not knowing if he should comfort her or not because she was happy, but she was crying? Ouma just sat and tried not to think about the intense ache in his legs and how he was going to will himself to stand up later. And while sitting, Ouma pondered a decision, he thought about what Ace, Clubs, Duke, and Spades would think, and he smiled when he found that they would react to his decision with love and excitement.

So, when she had calmed down a little, Ouma revealed his decision to her.

“I was wondering… if you’d like to meet my family. They’re stupidly kind, even Ace, who is a grumpy-pants. They’ll love you as you, as a girl. We plan to escape from this place one day… and I was wondering if you’d like to join us?”

The Second Twin had remnants of tears still running down her face, and they turned silver in the light as she turned to reply to Ouma. 

“I…”

She seemed stunned, like a deer caught in the headlights. Her rosy eyes were wide, with both hope and anticipation. Then her eyes flicked away, and Ouma knew her willingness to join was ephemeral.

“I can’t. My brother… he wouldn’t want to leave. He’s happy here. I don’t think he’d join your little group even if I did, and he’s… family. I can’t leave him.”

Ouma nodded, resisting the urge to let out a disappointed sigh. Family was family after all. Instead, all Ouma did was query:

“Does… he know?”

The Second Twin brought her legs up to her chest, face somber.

“He does. He… accepts me, but he has pleaded with me to keep it a secret. If I’m being honest with you, I think there’s a part of him that thinks I killed our parents. I told them, and they didn’t accept me. They were so stressed when they went for a drive a few days later. And well… they must’ve lost concentration. That’s how we ended up here.”

Ouma bit into his lip, hard. Even he could pick up the remorse in her voice.

“Y’know I don’t think that it’s your-”

“I know. I tell myself that every day. It doesn’t work.”

Her voice was scratchy. 

And they once again sat in silence.

That is, until, streaks of yellow, pink, and orange fell across the sky announcing the entrance of the dazzling sun. And the last words that Ouma told before it rose were:

“My offer to meet my family still stands. Let me know if you ever change your mind.”

-

The Second Twin still thought about her conversation with the odd boy for days after it happened. She felt pleased and terrified that she had told him all at once. Despite him spying on her… the boy was nice. They had shyly waved at each other a few times, but they hadn’t spoken since. A part of her was glad that they hadn’t talked more, because it was embarrassing and terrifying and so… intimate? That she didn’t want to let her guard down like that again. But a part of her desperately wished she could talk to the boy that accepted her again. She wished to tell more people. She wished for others to see her as she was. It was like an itch, every time she thought about that night, every time her desire to take his offer got bigger and bigger, more sore and irritating.

Until one night, the itch turned into a wound.

On this night the Second Twin couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted to stick with her brother, but she was so sick of feeling alone. Alone in her feelings and her identity. Her hunger to be truly known grew and grew until her desire to be herself grew ravenous. She had tossed and turned for hours after going to bed. It wasn’t particularly hot, but her anxiety had warmed up her bed, so now the sheets were stifling her with warm air. She… hadn’t talked directly or personally to her brother in a while. Maybe talking closely with family would calm the storm that brewed behind her skin.

The Second Twin slithered out of her bed, padding quietly across the room. Her twin brother had moved his bed away from her awhile ago, preferring to sleep closer to his friends. It had hurt at first, but she had gotten used to it. Besides, it made it easier to sneak out when no one wanted to sleep by her. She snuck up to her brother's bed, and softly tugged at his sheets, having known him for years, she knew he was a light sleeper and it wouldn’t take much to wake him up. After ripping the sheets away from his shoulders, the boy let out a shudder and a huff before blinking his eyes open.

“Wh…? Why the fuck are you waking me up?”

She blinked, suddenly nervous at his gruff tone.

“I… wanted to talk to you.”

“Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?”

He growled back, snatching the sheets back up to his shoulders and shuffling into them. She understood his annoyance, but she just  _ needed  _ to talk to him. No matter what.

“Please… it’s serious.”

She heard him snort under his covers.

“Really? You’re saying serious shit now of all times? Are you going to throw a hissy fit about one of my friends again?”

She wrinkled her nose at that remark. She did not like a lot of her brother's friends. She had warned him about them, about their… taunting nature, but he had spat back criticisms at her, saying that she should get her own friends before judging his own. Her brother seemed to be at the head of his own group, as he was quite popular around the orphanage, even the matrons cooed at him and found him charming. It wasn’t just the matrons who found him popular though, as the Second Twin had pretended not to see him making out with two different girls on the same day.

His friends wouldn’t usually insult the Second Twin in front of her brother. But after she had warned her brother about them, they grew a lot more ambitious, openly throwing stuff at her and teasing her right in front of her brother, who would just laugh it off, not willing to tarnish his reputation to defend her.

She wouldn’t risk talking about his group again.

“No, I wasn’t. I wanted to talk to you about… my secret.”

She heard him suck in a heavy breath.

“Fine. Make it quick though.”

_ Was there panic in his voice? _

He slowly got out of bed and aggressively gestured for her to find them somewhere else where they could talk and not be heard. Frightened he would change his mind, the Second Twin fluttered down the halls, knowing exactly where to go.

The moonlit hall. A place that the Second Twin had claimed as her ethereal demesne.

Except for tonight, it wasn’t silver with the moon's light. The clouds were a swelling, fleshy grey, engulfing the moon with their darkness.

The pair of twins then stood in that hall, the first leaning on the side of the cupboard, and the second facing him, window and stars behind her, supporting her. She took a deep breath.

“I can’t keep myself a secret anymore. I want people to know who I really am.”

It was almost incredible to watch her twin brother’s face grow from mildly concerned and curious to wrathful and fuming.

“Absolutely. Not.”

The Second Twin let out another breath. She knew this would happen, but she was more determined now, braver. 

“I want to. Look, I know life is going to be harder, but I’m so tired. I’m so tired of hearing people call me what I don’t want to be called. Even if a lot of people don’t accept me, I think it’s worth it if even a little does. I’m so tired of having to act, and I may be doing something stupid, but I’m also trying to be brave. If I die by the hands of others, at least I die as myself.”

Her brother was seeping with rage.

“YOU- YOU… DO YOU KNOW HOW SELFISH YOU’RE BEING?”

The Second Twin flinched at his volume and stepped back shaking as he stepped closer, his hands curling in and out of fists. She suddenly didn’t feel so brave.

“IF YOU… IF YOU TELL ANYONE. YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN TO ME? THEY’LL THINK I'M THE SAME. I DON'T WANT TO BE COMPARED TO A FREAK-”

He paused, eyes wide, catching his breath, realizing his words. The Second Twin gulped down what he had said, feeling any hope in her heart shatter.

“That’s all this is. You never cared. You just don’t want to be compared to a freak like me, do you?

Intense, pricking heat suddenly scorched across the side of the Second Twin’s face, and her head snapped back with it. It took her a moment to realize she’d been punched. Her brother was breathing heavily, face red as his fist. The Second Twin gently touched her cheek, she knew her eyes were teary and red and wide. She just felt shocked. But her brother was crying too.

“You never gave a shit about how I’d feel. You never gave a shit about how our parents felt. Why couldn't you have kept it quiet? I may have accepted you for it before, but not now. I never believed you… I-I I was being kind, letting you run around and play pretend. You took advantage of that. IT’S YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM, YET YOU MAKE IT MINE.”

“It’s not. You’re right.”

The Second Twin’s voice was calm yet wobbly, just not heated like her brother’s. She took a step closer to him.

“I know it’s not logical. I know you think I’m crazy, I know you think I’m an attention seeker. I wish I didn’t make it a huge drama. I wish this feeling was normalized and…”

She let out a sob, loud, powerless, and despairful, the complete opposite of when she cried with happiness the other night.

“I can’t do this… I-I can’t keep being a boy. I don’t want to have to hide and keep myself a secret. I’m trapped… in my own fucking body. I hate it when I look in the mirror and I hate myself so fucking much. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I burden you, and I wish I could wake up tomorrow without ever having to feel these feelings. But you…”

Her breath shuddered.

“You make me feel like shit for having feelings. For being myself. I... I wasn't the cause of __ what happened to our parents. They chose to not try and understand me, and what happened to them had nothing to do with their opinions of me. I feel shit about it too, but it doesn't mean that you... and even I can scapegoat me just to justify the situation. Just recently I realized I don’t have to stay with you. I can find others that actually respect my feelings. So you’re welcome.  ** Because soon, you’ll never even see me again. ** ”

Ignoring her brother’s stunned face, the Second Twin turned around and stalked off, the clouds floating away from the window and letting the moon glow behind her as she left.

For once, she didn’t feel so tired, she didn’t feel so trapped. Because she knew exactly where she was going.

_ “My offer to meet my family still stands. Let me know if you ever change your mind.” _

Her face was swollen and sore, but she smiled. She had never felt so free.

-

Ouma grinned as he took out The Second Twin’s last rook. Her joining the group went very smooth, Ouma just explained her situation, and everyone just… didn’t care. They made no fuss, just nodded, and said along the lines of: “That's cool. Welcome. Now, do you want in on this next round of cards or what?” They had a bit of trouble getting the right pronouns, but it was no big deal, they just corrected themselves and moved on. 

The day she had told Ouma she changed her mind, Ouma had asked why, and her reply was:

“Why do those that share blood with you, are automatically your family? Blood doesn’t determine who’s closest to you in life. It’s just similar chemicals that flow through your veins. I think I’ll call him family again one day, but not now. A family is somewhere you feel accepted and loved right? If those who are related to you don’t accept you, then maybe they were never your family after all.”

Ouma had just nodded his heart racing.

The Second Twin’s feisty and brave spirit had led her to where she was now. Sitting on Ouma’s bed as he lay in it, weak and still slightly feverish but competitive enough to still play. No one was going to take his crown. But… the Second Twin was coming pretty close. 

The other members of the group were cheering and whooping at the Second Twin. She had been the closest out of all of them to beat Ouma. She had somehow kept her queen away from his attacks for almost an entire game. But… unfortunately not for long.

Ouma still had his beloved knight piece.

With a few quick moves, the game was over, declaring Ouma still the reigning champion. But… he didn’t care, in fact, nobody did. Everyone was buzzing with excitement over their new member. She had lasted for so long, and she had taken Ouma down to five pieces in the end. Ouma was quick to punish and take the queen piece from his opponents, but she was fast and attacked strongly. 

Ouma was a little scared, but mostly impressed. 

The Second Twin was flustered but she didn’t show it. Instead, all she did was produce Ouma with the very book she had shown him the first time they’d met.

“Here. Because you defeated me, you can borrow this. Something tells me you’ll need it.”

Ouma tilted his head at her, confused. But all she did was giggle at him before her lighthearted face turned into one of a dangerous scowl.

“But you better fucking return it. Or else.”

Ouma nodded quickly, definitely-not-fearing-for-his-life. As the group laughed at the two’s antics, Ouma realized he had a gift for the girl as well.

“Hey. Because you were so good with that queen, I think you should have a weird name like us. Besides, this one’s perfect.”

-

_ Queen. _

That’s all Kokichi could think as soon as he was back in the circus tent. A wobbly grin spread across his face as soon as he saw her. She looked happier, more comfortable, safer, and loved in her own skin as she danced elegantly with ribbons, stars bright in her eyes. Once again this wasn’t real, just a ghostly figure of the girl he had once known, but Kokichi couldn’t help the way his heart raced in pure pride and excitement for the girl who had decided to be herself.

It seemed like he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

Saihara beside him was smiling as tears ran down his face. He wiped them away and let out a shaky chuckle. 

“She’s… I… I-I’m so happy. The story you told me was true after all.”

He then turned and gave Kokichi one of the happiest looks he’d ever seen on the other boy since they’d met. Saihara couldn’t help as another joyful tear ran down his face.

“I… back then. When we met during the tragedy. I hadn’t… I wasn’t… I wasn’t myself. I looked like a girl then. That’s why I was so nervous to tell you. The first time you saw me was when I wasn’t a boy, I wasn’t  ** me ** . My name wasn’t even Shuichi. So when we met at New Hope's Peak just after the tragedy, I was insecure and rocky in my new identity, even if it was the one I wanted. I was terrified someone was going to out me, and reveal to everyone who I was before. And there you were, my new classmate, you were bound to recognize me. So I confronted you, and I pleaded for you to keep my past a secret. All you did was grin at me, and you quelled my fears because of it.”

Saihara then gently took Kokichi’s hands in his.

“Y-You told me about Queen. The girl who was like me. You told me of how brave she was, and how proud of her you were. Suddenly my insecurities about my identity seemed to drip away, only a little, but to me, it meant a lot. I felt better knowing there was someone out there like me. I felt better knowing that you would accept me as you did for her. So…”

Saihara pulled Kokichi into a gentle hug.

“Thank you. For what you did for her, and then for me.”

Kokichi was bright red as Saihara held him, but he pulled himself together to breathe out:

“You-you’re welcome?”

Saihara sniffled, before abruptly letting Kokichi go. Kokichi almost whined, he was secretly reveling in the warmth and softness that Saihara had given him.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hug you so suddenly like that. I-I just got caught up in the moment.”

“It’s okay. It was… nice.”

“O-oh.”

The two were blushing now, both realizing what Kokichi had just said. Before Saihara faced him again, seeds of fear growing in his eyes.

“Ouma… you know my secret again now. I-is that okay?”

Kokichi paused before his face morphed into warmth.

“Of course~! Shumai is as much of a boy as I am! And Queen is as much of a girl as Shumai is a boy, right?”

Saihara wiped away some of the remaining moisture in his eyes.

“Yeah. That’s right.”

And behind them, a loop of Queen dancing still played, the blue and white ribbons twisting around her as she twirled, making her pink hair flick wildly around her shoulders. 

She was herself.

She was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Hopefully it wasn't too terrible ieruhgouge
> 
> Song in chapter title: Goddess by S.J Tucker
> 
> Discord server: https://discord.gg/sHWGBEs
> 
> ALSO!!!: 
> 
> If you want to feed your hunger for good saioom fics, I recommend:
> 
> Welcome to the 69th circle of hell by Strawberry_Flavoured_Tears: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25593316/chapters/62115199
> 
> And!! Ghost Loop by Nebulablu:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/24915946/chapters/60295393


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